R O A L S
by Fencing Supplies
Summary: In a world where Mufasa survives the stampede, things are a lot less straight forward. A mysterious prophecy outlines a doomsday, Scar fights off guilt and foggy memories, dark figures capitalist on a weakened dynasty, and the ancestors start to plot. A tale of growing up in the mythical lands and what makes a lion worthy of his kingdom.
1. But We're Talking Kings and Succession

But We're Talking Kings And Succession

_In the beginning, there was a Wise Monkey, visiting somewhere Ancient, during a Strange African Night:_

He had felt the heaviness of the coming conversation for days now. The meteor shower was making thin scars across the night. Wind flew wildly and the trees gossiped of a something on the way. Usually the trees talked of crazy things, but they had it on good account this time.

Rafiki would need to be alone to translate these coming messages.

The old rainbow faced baboon was currently sitting by a lake, peering closely at what the meteors were doing in the sky and how the lake reflected them. Many disturbing signs were coming across rapidly, but also, an overwhelming sense.

The true king's journey was ripe to begin.

Rafiki sat down in the wet dirt, stroking his beard in concentration and also mystery. Usually watching from the lake's shores helped to understand, but now it just added to the trouble. The night was full of vicious weather which worsened by the second. On his way back home the next day the spirits were still aflame, repeating their foretelling to him over and over, following him, chasing him, urging him on. The rain was almost flying horizontally!

Rafiki felt cold, even when back in his nest inside the ancient baobab tree. The ancestors still swirled around in the air, and then continued to burn the spirit of the true king into the back of his eyelids. One lean shape, deadly and strong and covered in blood. All he ever did was stand in the dark, head bowed. The shadows would move and squeal; lions, baboons, birds, antelope, zebra, elephant, hog...

_The circle of life, _Rafiki mumbled with estatic glee. The circle of life more clear and alive that he had ever seen it. Not for a thousand years had the world been in such harmony. But still, everything was drenched in blood, and Rafiki realised that there would have to be war before harmony. He was not looking forward to the day that this true king arrived, and his dear friend Mufasa had to bear the storm. True king's only arose in times of great rebellion and change, usually because they were the very catalyst for it all. Nothing the ancestors had told him tonight was good, it all made his heart ache, yet they chattered and danced longer than usual. The stars were sparkling in some secret joke.

The baboons's mind wondered to the young prince. What would come of him? The true king could come tomorrow, or take years to arrive. But within his life, for sure, otherwise the visions would not be as clear. Would it even be Mufasa that rules the pride lands when the true king come? Rafiki felt the potent potential in Simba, but also the recklessness and uncontrollable spirit that leaked out of ever pore. Rafiki did love the prince dearly, but sometimes the character of Simba was so vibrant Rafiki could only describe it as a _cesspool of_ _rawness_. While he wished life could be easy, and that the energetic golden cub could be the true king all along and he could easily inherit both his right of birth and of spirit, Rafiki knew it was not so. One day a lion with the right of birth would have to battle a lion with right of nothing but spirit, and the true king would be the champion. Perhaps the blood he was drenched in, was Simba's? Rafiki did not want to meditate on the nightmare anymore, but the visions and notions hounded him as he tried to made some medicines.

He had felt the presence of the true king back by the Ndutu lake. Sees him every time he tries to close his eyes. The true king was a ferocious beast, coiled tight around a vast knowing. His outside was quiet, but the inside was simmering power.

* * *

_A Confused Child, in his Nightmare:_

_Hot breath fanned down his back. Nala was screaming, and the creatures with the crowd of fangs were chuckling. Simba stretched out into the dark, his little claws scrambling over stone as smooth as ice. He tried to call out, but his throat had closed up. He couldn't move - something was holding him down - his throat was hollow and slick with blood. He was running, Nala panting and slowly falling behind him. They were bigger and stronger and savage, they would kill Nala where she stood, no matter that she was just a baby lioness. He needed to save her._

_Simba leapt forward, Nala rushing along beside him. They tried to scramble up the bones but as they jumped, the rotting bodies beneath them ripped, and they fell down into the gaping mouths of the rank hot breaths._

Simba woke up soaked and shivering. Rain was leaking through the cave roof and had pooled where he'd slept. The nightmare still played in front of his eyes, even as he traced the outlines of the older cubs that surrounded him. If he looked far into the back of the den he could see his parents asleep atop the high ledge. His dad was outlined in the night time's purple light, his huge body all sprawled out and thick mane billowing in all directions. Any cub would be eased by the sight of their protective father, but Simba felt even sicker. If his father hadn't come in time...

Cubs as young as him should be sleeping safe between their parents for at least another five months, but ever since that night Simba felt like he had disgraced himself. He felt unworthy of the nest between the King and Queen, of the spot upon the royal rock. One day he will be king, but Simba seriously doubted that. He couldn't protect Nala, he couldn't even save himself. How was he supposed to protect everything the light touches?

Ever since that day, his father teaches him more and more, but it feels like the boundless energy and innocence of before has left him for good. He will pretend to be chirpy and unaffected, but if the constant nightmares of Nala being ripped apart before him wasn't enough, then the deep ache of being weak and useless completed the sense of being pathetic well enough.

He had taken to sleeping with the older cubs, the ones that had left their parent's sides and made a little corner of the cave just for them. They had tufts of manes coming through, and the lionesses already had kill tallies. Next to them he felt like a newborn cub. His mother still carried him around and bathed him for star's sake! Nala thought that it was nothing to be ashamed of, but she wasn't the bloody future king with the pressure of protecting everything the light bloody touches now was she?

Simba moped around for awhile before getting up and shaking himself off, making sure to groom his fur so he wouldn't have to suffer the humiliation of his mother doing it herself. It was still dark, but a pale, weak blue was starting to halo everything near the mouth of the cave. Simba knew that meant that the sunrise was about to begin. He walked out of the den, focusing on the way he moved, trying to prowl like the seasoned hunters did and move sleek and quiet like the fog that blanketed the Pride Lands. The golden cub silently sat on the edge of Pride Rock. His tail curled over his cold paws daintily. His eyes scanned the land with an intensity the cub himself was not aware of. Deep black eyes rimmed in burning red studied all, from the dew that gathered on the wet rock beneath him to the orange creeping over the horizon.

Restless sleep were making his eyes look weary and old, and as he sat on the royal throne and watched over his kingdom just as all the kings had done before him, the smallness of the cub became apparent, and the size of the burden he carried was nauseating.

The top of the sun finally appeared, and light hit the Pride Lands in a flood. Pride Rock was set on fire and his coat glowed, the stirring animals casted long, lean shadows that danced across the flat plains. Flowers and wings unfurled, the clouds that raced across the sky looked like they were jewelled in gold and Simba felt the maturity he had gained over the last self-pitying weeks sting him sharply. He would never have had the patience or the weariness to sit and watch the sunrise and the Pride Land's awake, but here he was now, content and observing his father's kingdom with apt interest.

He wasn't going out with his dad today. Since today there was 'dangerous business about' for the King. Instead, for the first time since the incident in the graveyard, Simba was doing what he used to do before everything began... he would be a cub again. He was to play with the other cubs as the lionesses watched them from the shade. It felt weird to be back in a place that was his entire existence a few weeks ago, but now felt like a foreign idea.

He had changed; he was no longer Simba the lion cub. He was Simba the future king. And newly aware of the responsibilities he had been carrying since birth.

He heard heavy footfalls behind him and knew without looking that it was his dad. Simba never used to spend much time with his father, the massive lion used to leave before dawn and return after dark. Usually whenever the King was at Pride Rock, the Prince was fast asleep from a tiring day of chasing lizards through the grass.

But ever since Mufasa took him out to see the sunrise for the first time, and told him who he was and they were and what this place is, and every since the night in the graveyard, Mufasa has been taking his young son everywhere with him. Simba knew the heavy, but perfectly placed steps of his father.

"You're up early." His father stated as he came to sit beside his miniscule son. Simba shrugged and looked at his paws. Trying to school his expression into one of more cub like excitement.

"I suppose I've just gotting used to watching the sunrise."

His father rumbled deep in his chest, showing his amusement at Simba's answer. The flapping of wings annoucing Zazu's arrival, and he looked up to check that he was correct. The studious hornbill was currently perched on his father's broad shoulder, looking down at him with curious eyes.

"I thought you weren't coming today," he said, to which his father stopped from licking his mane and said "he's just watching the sunrise."

Simba looked between the two, their expressions were harder to read that usual and the clear trust between the lion and the hornbill was evident. Simba, not for the first time, wondered what sort of dangerous duties faced the King and his steward today, exactly. He had been told little, and Zazu had been mysteriously quiet that afternoon. He was even worse today as he scanned the sky restlessly for any messenger birds on their way.

Later his mother strolled out of the den, stretching herself as she went. She licked his head once, but did no more besides raise an eyebrow high at his new neat appearance. She groomed and nuzzled her mate and wished the hornbill good luck as the two finally set out into the Pride Lands. She turned and smiled down at Simba as Mufasa and Zazu disappeared into the dancing shadows and orange sunlight.

"So I guess you're back with me today. Excited to get a day off? I should be nice to be back spending time with your friends again."

Simba nodded. He had hardly spoken to Nala at all since the graveyard incident. He wondered how she felt about it, that he was now as absent as the King. Coming and going like a shadow. He wondered if she had known he was the future king all along, or had been as oblivious as he had been. He got a little excited at the prospect of spending the day with Nala, but still, he was the youngest cub in the entire pride, and he had a feeling today was just going to open his eyes more as to how pathetic he was, and how stupid he used to sound with all his big talk of fighting off hyenas if he ever met them and taking down a buffalo if they just gave him a chance.

He walked back into the den close by his mother's side. His eyes downcast to the rock. Ancient kings had long ago worked the stone smooth with their countless footsteps, but still Simba was so sleepy he managed to stumble.

* * *

_The Sun and the Night, somewhere Dusty and Hot:_

Mufasa and Scar strolled along through the lush grass, their manes intermingling as they bumped shoulders and padded side by side. Zazu had flown off to relay a message, leaving the brothers alone. The two beasts leaned into one another when serious business was being discussed. In times of danger to the pride, the two males would often work closely together.

Mufasa was a brute, testing the limits of how big his species could grow, his muscles seemed to fight and roll under his golden coat with every confident movement he made. Next to the golden example, Scar looked like a shadow – a dangerous shadow - but a thin shadow nonetheless.

Mufasa paused to study the horizon with an intent look so focused, that Scar just had to roll his eyes silently. Magic? Senses? Instinct? Or was it a kingly knowledge only the King himself was privy to that caused his brother to root himself to the spot and study the empty horizon? God knows, he did it enough times, there had to be a reason.

The golden king's tail started to swipe, the only outward sign that he had become agitated. His shadowy brother walked a few paces and flopped down in the grass like a boneless carcass. Leaves became entangled in his wild black mane as he rolled and rubbed against the scratchy ground. He paused and sat up quickly, observing his brainless brother.

"Mufasa what could you _possibly_ be looking at?"

The golden brother's tail stilled at the voice of his companion, but he did not answer until many heartbeats later.

"The antelope are fighting."

"The rut has started?" Scar asked, mildly curious. He tried to watch the horizon again just as his brother did, but he couldn't see anything fighting, anything moving, anything alive at all, for that matter.

"It is too soon."

"Oh, what's it to us, the bucks fight because they got some fire in their blood and suddenly you got to leap off and make things right. Honestly Mufasa, why do you care?" Mufasa tore his gaze from the horizon, where Scar could now see a distant swirl of flying dust, marking where the bucks must be fighting. "Perhaps they were just practicing?" Scar said with a rascally look on his face. Mufasa fixed him with a levelled stare.

"I care because I am King, Scar,"

"Oooooh, that's riiiight. Silly me, I forgot that it was your birth right to boss every individual creature around. I feel so _foolish_ now." He made a feint of being embarrassed, a quiet growl sounded from deep in his brother's rib cage and Scar smirked in himself as he threw himself back onto the ground in a carless sprawl. Sometimes he made it too easy for Scar.

"Let's check the watering hole." Mufasa ordered before walking off with a flick of his ears. Scar growled deep in his chest, annoyed. Forget that he was being forced against his will to help Mufasa and his party of lionesses and hawks, to locate some gang of bulls that had been terrorising everything in their path as they travelled north.

Scar twirled around and flipped back onto his feet, shaking the loose white dust of his homeland off his dark coat. He looked around for his brother and saw the red maned King walking off.

Because of Mufasa's marching stride, and Scar's dragging, in-no-hurry-whatsoever-thankyou pace, the distance between them grew. They were walking together; honestly, this is what the brothers defined as being together – even though they became featureless lumps in one another's view. Scar muttered and prowled through the grass lands, tracing the sent trial of his brother. Stopped here to scent mark the ground, halted here to talk to some birds, started jogging here to catch up to a gazelle he had recognised. Scar did no such thing, instead he glared holes into anything that dared to cross his path.

Annnd, there we go. Scar had lost Mufasa. Bound to happen really. The wind picked up here where the land raised, and the smell of prey saturated the area.

Scar let out three quiet roars; annoyance quite evident in his tone, the moan that they made echoed across the grasslands that surrounded him, a flock of tiny sandy birds were startled into flight some yards away when the sound washed over them.

The unique booming roar of the King replied from down in the gully a yard in front of where Scar stood. Scar started for it in a lazy wandering gait, sour insults being mumbled under his breath as he planned what sort of earful he would give his brother. Just wondering off like that, the nerve! Scar didn't even want to be here, he could have been in his nice cool cave, sleeping away the heat of the day as he always did. As any sane animal did. His big paws dragged heavily in the dirt as he yawned, tongue curving daintily in his dagger lined mouth. He was even sleepier than usual, eyes sagging quite a bit because of his late night meeting with the hyenas. It was no quick trip to go all the way beyond the border of Mufasa's seemingly _endless _domain and come all the way back before sunrise. But it was worth it, what a cunning plan he had made- oh! _Riiiiiight_…his cunning plan.

As Scar came to the ledge of the gully, he paused and looked down into the howled out once-river. The wind threw his pitch black mane into tangles around him as he looked down on to where his brother sat, Scar watched the King with an absolutely unreadable expression. His clay brown coat was still dusted with the fine white dirt, and his claws were working slowly, making scratches in the shifting pebbles beneath them. The plan, the plan…

_Yeah, be prepared. _

_Yeah-heh... we'll be prepared, heh._

_...For what?_

_For the death of the king._

_Why? Is he sick?_

_No, fool- we're going to kill him. And Simba too_

Down below him Mufasa sat with (oh _of course_, he should have guessed) the antelope who had been fighting before. Well, he didn't actually know, but Scar assumed as much. Or maybe friends of the antelope fighting? Employed to deliver a message, perhaps? The fools weren't even the countless gnu whose migration controlled life on the savannah - why on earth Mufasa wastes his time with irrelevant lesser species such as these antelope was beyond Scar.

They looked like the gnus, with the twisted short horns and the long muzzles. Same size too, could stare a zebra in the eye, though they did not compare to the muscle and considerable bulk of the gnu. They lacked the blacky blue coat as well, with no long white beards full of snarls hanging from their chins. _Kongoni_, the name came to him, the gnu's fine boned and light footed, cream coated cousins.

They were young, Scar thought. Surveying them with his green, deadly gaze. Horns half as splendid as their species grew, not many scars, lanky with spurts of growth. Four of them, fumbling around one another as they tried to absorb Mufasa's every word, awe clear on their faces.

Oh bother, just what Mufasa needs, some easily impressionable adolescents making him feel like a bloody ancestor descended from the twinkling bum holes of the night. The kongoni had probably never seen the King in person before, probably never been hunted by a lion before. Idiots, gathering around an apex killer like cubs, jugulars within a millisecond of being torn open. Gods, this is what one predator to every million of prey resulted in. No respect for the lions. Soon they'll be questioning whether they even need to listen to us. And Scar knew for a fact that quite a fair number _were_. Why do we need a _lion_ king? Why do we even need a king?

Scar decided to fix that, and made a great show of leaning so that he seemed to impose over the gully.

"Mufasa!" He called out, capturing their attention. Just how he liked it, center stage. "We're looking for killer bulls, not awkward kongoni," he teased, and with a simple gathering of his muscles he leapt straight off the edge of the gully and down into its pit, one smooth, elegant, calculated movement. _Like running water,_ he purred to himself as he prowled over the many rocks and potholes which littered the area, eyes fixing on the kongoni bucks each in turn.

They shuffled… restless… unsure…but not willing to leave the King's presence yet, not scared enough to do the smart thing and run like the meals that they are.

"Scar," Mufasa greeted him in a displeased voice, clearly seeing what he was trying to do. "These are the ones responsible for the early battles; I am just explaining to them the significance of their actions." The four boys stood like statues watching the darker lion with the chilling smile slink closer and closer. One flinched, taking a step back. Mufasa turned to them, distressed by their distress.

Wimp.

"I shall be going now, thank you for your time and understanding young kongoni, I hope to see you all with your own herds in the future." The antelope offered their quick, squeaky voiced farewells and staggered over the rocks of the gully as they clambered up, out and quickly away, their restless bellows and moos heard on the wind as they galloped off.

Che, herds of their own, those pimpled, weak bellied adolescents will be flat out getting a lion interested in them let alone a lady.

"Scar why do you always do this?" Mufasa growled at him.

"What? I don't do it _all_ the time." Scar defended, slinking up and out of the gully with far more grace than the young kongoni bucks.

"Would it kill you to be friendly for at least-"

"Friendly? Is that what you want Mufasa? To be friends? We aren't their friends Mufasa, we aren't the god damn herd mates to these pathetic antelope. We're their rulers!" Scar looked to where the bucks were disappearing into specks. "And they're our lunch." He added, feeling himself start to droll.

"That's quite enough Scar," Mufasa thundered. The bigger lion leap up the gully's bank and walked so close that Scar instinctively shielded away, his brother's mammoth jaws within inches.

"_I'm_ their ruler." Mufasa simply stated with a hard glare. It was all Mufasa needed to say, and he knew it too. The larger, ideal male – the King – turned and strode off to the distant shade of a solitary tree which grew like a stranger in the ocean of grass, dust baths and shaky mirages.

Mufasa flopped down in the shade, licking his paws clean as he waited for the upset and sulking Scar to amble his way up to his side.

"Why did you even bring me on this patrol anyway." Scar asked bitterly. "Its not like you needed extra muscle, I'm more_ mane_ then I am muscle." Scar's shadowed and heavily lidded eyes glowed dangerously bright as he mocked himself.

"I told you, because coalitions need to keep strong if they want to protect their pride." Mufasa told him, with a voice far too please with himself.

"Next time you suggest such a thing, I _will_ kill myself." With that Scar sunk into the dirt, cooled by the protective shade. Mufasa chuckled, Scar knew it was an act - they had completely polar senses of humour.

"Is it really that bad?" Mufasa asked him.

Scar pretended to think about Mufasa's question.

"Ahh… yes. Yes it is." Mufasa paused in his licking, huffing a breath so great it sent little leaves skittling into the air. The King rested his head on his paws as he prepared to nap in the pleasant shade, safe from the burn of midday as they waited for Zazu to return with news. Scar agreed with this, his own eyelids falling as he lied down on his side.

"There was a reason, actually."

Scar pried his eyes open.

"What?"

"I need to ask you a favour." Mufasa looked troubled, serious, like he had been planning this conversation. This was bound to be interesting, if not devastating to his ego. Mufasa's thought out conversations were always about how Scar wasn't as great as Scar thought, which dampened the day quite a bit. As if the almighty King was without flaws! But of course, one does not point out the flaws of a King. He simply sits pretty and waits for the idiot to fall of his precious rock ledge or something equally typical of Mufasa.

"The King coming to his naughty, disgrace of a brother for favours. What has the world come to?"

"It's about Simba."

"Ah, the royal hairball. What's he done? Offended the rhino prince again? Pissed on one of the baboon's ancient spirit fruits? Annoyed the herds so much they left early? _Gods_ knows I would."

Mufasa tactically ignored Scar's dramatically said comments and carried on unchanged.

"It's became clear to me after the graveyard incident that he shouldn't be wondering the pride lands alone with just a hornbill to protect him." Mufasa was looking at his paws as he spoke about his ridiculously treasured son.

"He's got the golden coat of a King to protect him Mufasa, you and I both know that's more than enough." Indeed they did, Scar was sickened by the look of pity on Mufasa's face. "But I suppose the cheetahs are looking more shifty than usual…"

"The cheetahs are not the problem, Scar. You know that. It's the hyenas, everywhere I turn their flooding over the borders, their stealing kills off of hunters who worked for their meals, they are violating laws, they are not playing their roles and are breaking the circle of life."

The precious circle of life, if Scar had a hair for every time Mufasa went on about it he would be a walking puff ball by now. Probably could just _roll_ from place to place.

"What crimes have they committed?" Scar asked, wonder what his hyenas friends were getting up to. These were his loyal subjects after all.

"A few days ago a zebra was killed while she was giving birth, in plain day light. Many creditably sources say they starting eating her while she was still alive."

Scar put on a convincing display of being appalled. Mostly because he was.

"What is that, two, three violations of the pride land rules?"

"One rule and two laws; Scar," and then, in a move that Scar rarely saw from Mufasa, he swore. "They're fucking driving me nuts. On top of that they attempt to kill my son! I can't have cubs like Simba and Nala wondering around with a bird as their only form of protection."

"So… you want me… to baby sit?"

"It's your responsibility, Scar. Lionesses hunt and lions protect the pride; it's the roles we play in the great circle of life. These cubs are the future of this pride, and Rafiki sees troubled times ahead. The pride needs to be as strong as it possibly can." Mufasa was growing tired with him, Scar could tell. But he wasn't just going to accept! Chaperoning cubs around all day, putting up with the annoying prince was hard enough during the scarce amount of time Scar spent at pride rock, now he had to bring the cub under his wing. The kid could talk a vulture off a rotting elephant corpse goddamn. Shouldn't there be trained professionals for this sort of thing or something?

"Why can't you do it? You're the bloody King of everything the light bloody touches."

"Scar this is your responsibility!" Mufasa snarled, lifting off the ground a bit as he roared. With a shaky breath Mufasa settled back in the dirt. Scar realised that his own face was twisted into a vicious snarl and he had risen as well, quickly, he tried to relax his body language and consider how this development could help 'the plan'.

"It is your responsibility as a male of this pride to protect its members and its land. I am also a male of the pride, true, but I am also King of the pride lands, and I have just as much responsibility to the herds and the orphans and the weak and strong and the wellbeing of the grass land as I do to-"

"Okay, I get it. Yeesh, I'll do it, just give me a break on all the Kinglyness." He laid his head down in a huff, refusing to look at Mufasa. He could just feel the oaf's grateful smile anyway, so it's not like it helped.

But in reality – this played into 'the plan' _perfectly_.

"Listen, Simba really looks up to you, his 'cool' uncle and all that," Mufasa snorted at the notion, showing exactly what he thought of that. "He's the only cub brave enough to talk to you. I think this could help both of you."

"What are you implying?" Scar asked snappishly. He could just feel Mufasa swelling with pride at the fact that he got to call his equal idiotic son 'brave'. Parents, pathetic.

Mufasa didn't miss a beat as he responded to Scar.

"That you're an unpopular resentful lion with no friends and absolutely hope of attracting a lioness with your current attitude." He gave Scar a stern stare, but the sadistic humour that only Scar seemed to even be on the receiving end of, was making itself known. "I'm really doing you the favour here, practically."

"Oh, woah, don't – no, please - don't try and save my feelings. Why even bother, really?"

Mufasa huffed and went back to napping in the dust.

Harsh.

While Mufasa napped, Scar planned.

* * *

_Heir to the Kingdom, trailing behind his friends:_

They were going to the fig tree today. He used to love the fig tree, he was the best climber and his claw marks covered nearly every inch of the old branches. But still he could not shake his new found sadness. His mother had noticed straight away and she had whispered to him that time would help him heal. Spend the day sun baking, she had said.

Simba had never been so still or listless in his life. The cubs ran off and jumped around and screamed as they tackled one another. Realising how annoying you used to be is never a pleasant feeling.

The grass was tall and lush, when the mothers pushed through it clouds of crickets and tiny bugs scattered up into the gentle wind. Sometimes there would be soggy ground or puddles of mud, the boys would jump in it and try to splash each other, the girls would scream. Simba just took the easiest path and walked it. He realised half way to the fig tree that he was walking like an old elephant, world weary and steady. Cubs twice his age bounded around and past him, giggling and screeching. Simba felt fury burn inside him as he realised exactly why he was like this.

Why did he have to be king!? When his father told him, he had assumed it meant doing what he wanted, but now a few days later it was all too clear that being king was about doing what everyone else wanted. He wished he wasn't king. He wished he was just a normal lion. He wished his dad never finally told him, never started taking him out with him.

He wished he never got to see what being a king really meant. Why couldn't his father have let him live in ignorance for awhile longer? He was a cub! His fur was still tile marked and his ears rimmed with black, his claws see-through and bendy. Simba was angry at what his pride had done to him. On whose authority was it that he was the heir anyway? Why did the Pridelands need a ruler anyway? Why did he have to witness the dead and hear the crimes of the animals, why did he had to learn how to prosecute them correctly? Why did he have to be all of a sudden almighty, why did he have to grow up so quickly?

Why did his dad make him look into the eyes of the dying zebra? His father had said it would leave him with more questions and no answers, and the only way to answer those questions was to look inside yourself. Why did he do that?

A lioness gently pushed him along to get him walking faster, and Simba spun violently around in surprise. His fur was already half way up and his face partway twisted into a snarl because of his own frustrating thoughts, and it didn't take much for him to complete the transformation as he rounded on the old lioness. He snarled at her and she stepped back.

That would have never happened before. He would have been batted softly aside in reprime and told off with a growl. Then she would pick him up and caring him the rest of the way to shame him. She could easily still do that.

But instead she put space between them, and lowered her head so that her deep black eyes were staring straight across into his troubled red.

"You have fallen behind," she told him in her croaky voice. Simba tried to bring himself under control and listen for the loud squeals of the cubs. There were far ahead. She turned her face, one way then the other, and looked even deeper into him. Simba looked away in shame. "Something troubles you, young Simba." She was not known as the wise old lioness for nothing. Simba sighed and started walking, she strolled alongside him carefully.

"These days I feel older than you," he admitted. She laughed and did a little quiet roar in amusement.

"That sounds nothing like the pesky cub you were a few weeks ago." _Don't remind me,_ Simba grumbled to himself.

"Yeah, well, few weeks ago I didn't know I'm going to be king of everything." He said, flustered, his bewilderment coming through clearly.

"You know what I hate, Simba?" She said strangely.

"What?"

"I hate that the stupid creatures get to make all the decisions, because the wise ones are too busy questioning themselves." Her words struck a nerve deep inside of him. "Now let's hurry and catch up to the party, my king."

Simba stared at her for a long time as he trotted alongside her. She was one of the few lions left with the true golden coat of the pridelanders. Her eyes were dark and her whiskers were extremely long and crooked. She had a trio of scars running across her chest and her tail had been chewed off halfway. She caught him staring and whisper to him with a trace of good nature 'hyenas'.

_Of course._ Thought Simba. _It's always hyenas._ He couldn't imagine an animal more filthy and vile than them. Where all hyenas like that? Of course they were. Just like how all lions were noble and cheetahs were cheats and crocodiles couldn't be trusted. Zebras were narrow-minded and water buffalos stubborn and elephants randomly killed.

Was that the great circle of life? Simba asked himself as he glanced up at the sun through the grass. Around and around? The big kill and the little suffer?

When they reached the fig tree the cubs were already up in the branches. Simba eyed the deep scratch far up off the ground that marked the furthest any cub had gone. He used to obsess over reaching that mark and leaving his own a few feet higher. Now he couldn't care enough to push his way through all the crowded cubs

He went up and sat beside his mother. She purred and reached out to rub her cheek along his side as he walked to her. He settled down and took a deep breath as he attempted to sunbathed for the first time in his life.

He was glad that she didn't say anything, just let him close his eyes and enjoy the evolving warmth of the stone and the sun. It was far better than he had ever given it credit for. He stretched out his stressed body and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds close by and far away, occasionally flicking his ear when a fly walked across his face. The lionesses would chat about hunting and the coming change in the season, they would gossip about everyone, even each other. He felt himself drifting off, finally letting go of all the questions he had been forcing himself to answer. The comment of the old lioness replaying in his mind as he started to sleep.

When the little nose of another cub woke him up, he was ready to kill. He swiped out and battered them away, growling softly and frowning.

"Simba, shut up." Nala's no-nonsense voice sliced through whatever sleepiness he had been hazed with. Opening his eyes Simba glared at the light coloured lioness. She stared back at him with furrowed brows. "Want to go climb the tree with me?" She asked him with a spreading smile.

Okay, something was definitely wrong. Nala hated climbing. She hated being near the other cubs and she hated doing one of his favourite things without a fight over why one of her favourite things was far better. Simba pinned his ears back in worry.

"Okay." He agreed slowly. Nala actually brightened up at that. Nala brightened up at going tree climbing.

"Cool." She said before hoping down off the rock and waiting for him. Simba followed sluggishly, still trying to wake all his muscles up.

When they went out, Nala spent all her time with the lionesses. Getting groomed, listening to hunting tales, learning tricks, sun bathing and watching the herds on the horizon with unconcealed desire. She liked fighting, stalking and exploring. She refused to do anything she struggled at, perfect example being climbing, and she hated being anywhere around any other cub except Simba. Even her twin sister she despised.

They sat down when they got to the truck of the tree and looked up into the branches for the best place to start climbing. One of the oldest cubs there, Enam, was lounging amongst the roots.

"Good luck she-lion." He cheered in the over done way the older cubs have always done to Nala.

"Hey!" Simba growled, glaring at the bigger cub. His spots had faded and his adult teeth were coming in, even long hairs were starting to grow around his neck. Simba remembered how he used to look up to the older boys. He used to worship them. And when they teased Nala for being a lion in a lionesses coat he used to... he used to...

Dear god he used to ignore it and tell her it would pass. He thought they had a valid point. Nala was nothing like the girls, she beated them all when they brawled which hurt even his ego and she was such a snobby boss sometimes Simba thought she could use a little teasing.

He couldn't believe himself. Just as he was about to walk over and claw the fur off of Enam's back Nala shot back hauntingly,

"Poor Enam, too fat to climb a simple tree," She then collected herself and jumped high up onto the lowest branch, landing on it flawlessly and walking along it with calm balance. Simba watched her go and gathering his legs under him to follow, but just before he did he turned to Enam and smirked.

He found Nala resting right on the edge of the thick branch, half hidden amongst the fig's copious amounts of leaves and the heavy loads of ripening fruit.

"I like the view up here," she said as he came closer, looking out over the plains again and watching the herds with eyes sharp with instincts.

"That's the only thing you like up here," Simba grumbled, judging the branch across from the one he was on and making the small jump. His claws lost a hold for a brief moment but he managed to jam his paws into the ruts. His heart was beating hard and Simba finally realised he was smiling.

This was why he loved climbing.

"Whats up with you Simba?" Nala asked in a matter of fact voice, her creamy coat getting smeared with dead moss and frail bark as she stretched out on the branch. They looked at each other for a while before Simba sighed.

"How long have you known that I'm going to be King?" he asked her finally.

"Since you told me." Nala replied with ease, her tail curling and uncurling lazily.

"Well back then, we though being king was about doing what we wanted." Nala smirked at him and Simba couldn't help but return it as she said knowingly,

"We could do it all our way."

"Exactly." Simba said, glad she was following him so well. "But these past few days I've been learning that it's nothing like that." His voice dropped to a whisper as he felt the pressure come back over him. "It's hard Nala, it's the hardest thing I've ever done." He looked at her, and her expression showed clear concern.

"I'm sorry," she said to him softly. Simba just shook his head.

"Don't apologise, it's not your fault." He could start to hear the other cubs above them, fighting amongst each other and the snapping of small twigs under them.

"My mother says that when we grow up our fears will be a lot smaller, because we'll be the biggest, scarcest animals on the Pridelands."

Simba laughed bleakly. For some reason, he couldn't even phantom the idea of growing up into a lion as big as his father. He felt stunted and weak, and he couldn't imagine that ever changing.

"You want to try and climb to the top?" Nala asked him, cheered by his laugh no matter how hollow.

"Nah," Simba said, shrugging. "How about we go hunting?" Nala jumped out of her seat at the suggestion.

"I love hunting!" she exclaimed, rushing back down the tree.

_Yeah. I know._

On his way down Simba stopped to look at the girls. They were usually loudly arguing or giggling, but right now they were strangely quiet. He glanced up into the branches just before he jumped down to the ground and saw them, all of them watching him. He made eye contact with one of them before they all looked away and either giggled or whispered quickly. However Nala's sister kept looking on at him, her eyes gleaming with mischief. Simba rolled his eyes.

He _hated _lionesses. They were always up to something.

Nala was waiting for him down on the ground, sitting regally and licking her fur smooth. He walked up alongside her, his golden fur mingling with her near white.

"Mouse? Bird?" She asked with ears pricked and swiveling around. Simba smirked.

"Whatever we can find," he said with a mock of evilness in his lowered voice, he dug his claws into the ground and Nala chuckled as their usually childless returned.

She was a natural hunter. She was the best at what she did, and if she wasn't, then she feared to do it. Simba was the only other cub that accepted her for what she was. A tomboy, a brute, a lioness over her head in ambition. Next to her Simba always felt clumsy, but he learns, just like Nala sometimes takes strength from his bravery and tentatively will try something new or at least attempt to be civil to the other cubs. It was something.

It felt good to be himself again, to play with Nala and the others who joined them when they started to wrestle. Nala came second, beating everyone but Kalifa, but the cubs who were beat didn't mocked her for being a he-lioness like they usually did after losing. Even the oldest boys said nothing. Simba wondered if they had come to accept Nala more while he was away with his father.

Simba was the youngest cub there, younger than Nala and her sister by a few weeks, and the rest by at least a few months. He usually managed to beat the lazy cubs like Adejola and Benji, and sometimes even Nala's sister Berta, but he was never a match for the bigger cubs and Nala.

They sat down in the shade and licked the light wounds they had got during play. The sun was high which usually meant it was nap time, and Simba's eyelids were awfully heavy. He settled down to nap and Nala quickly got up from where she was and curled beside him like always. The eight other cubs sprawled out themselves with great yawns and purrs.

During their nap a shower past over, wetting his coat and making the grass hang with water droplets. On the walk back he and Nala joined the boys in rolled through the new muddy puddles (much to the disgust of the young lionesses who screamed when they got too close – though Benji looked on with secret envy). They pretended to be cheetahs and raced each other home.

It was just what he needed.

The lionesses took them to the big kill they had made last night, now half stripped to the bone. The cubs liked to climb on top and proclaim themselves a part of the hunt that took it down, and make up wild stories of how it played out. All the cubs listened with interest as each took their turn.

Simba would stick his head through the hole in its belly and took around at its big empty ribcage. He pulled the thick skin back and looked at the exposed spine. The boys were working on trying to take the beasts big horns off its head, but they weren't having much luck.

"How did it really happen?" Benji asked her mother from where she sat licking dried blood off her paws. Her mother, Simba's half sister, grinned and bared her fangs.

"The Queen made the charge, and the herd went into a panic." All the cubs gasped and huddled as they tried to listen to the real hunt with intent ears. "They were scared mad, and a few nearly tripped over the very grass they ate. Mother was on the heels of the slowest, but even they were still too strong for our liking." She looked them all in the face in turn. "Then a calf ran around a bank the wrong way, I was on the flank and nearly had him. I swiped a paw at his legs and he fell down, I was on top of him," one of the young lionesses gasped, "and just as I was going to bite down on his throat, the great bull ran up and flung me into the air with his horns." On cue, she turned to reveal the two deep bruises from where the horns had lifted her. "He was strong and brave," his sister said, now looking at the carcass with respect, something that none of the cubs had for it, because they could not comprehend that it used to be something.

Simba had been told why thing's died. He had watched that zebra pass away. He was to be the king.

"He sacrificed his life to save the calf. I wondered who that calf is, what he will go on to become." She exhales and smiled at the cubs. "Does the meat taste brave?" Enam shook his head and someone else scoffed.

"Well it tastes brave to me." His half sister admitted sadly.

Later, when the cubs were back to exploring the carcass and eating the grit off the bones, Simba went over to his sister and asked her what brave could possibly taste like.

"Like ash," she admitted without thinking. "Only those who deserve to die, or those you never killed actually taste good."

Her coat was a darker cream, just like his mother, with the same knowing eyes and strong face. She nuzzle him and chuckled.

"Little king's finally asking the right questions." Simba huffed and threw his tail up causing her to chuckled even more. "If my mother where to hear of such teasing she would have you banished immediately!" His sister liked that and pushed him as she rolled over herself. It was a joke she and him had played since he could remember. She liked to make fun of the fact that she and him had Sarabi in common.

Sometimes the cubs asked him what it was like to have such an older sister. Simba said it was like having a normal sister, just that she was grown up enough that they never fought. Ulan and Benji both worried that it meant he could boss them around, even though they were older, but Simba never really bother to treat his nieces any different to the other cubs. It was weird anyway.

His half sister and his mother both came from the lakelands. It was far to the west of the Pridelands, and you had to cross the flatlands to get there. They're coats were the colour of wet sand because they did all their hunting on the banks of the endless inland sea. Sometimes he tried to talk to his mother about her life before she came to the Pridelands, and she would always refuse, telling him that her lions had been ruled only by the laws of Blood and Fear. Big change had come many years ago, and now they were a new society, still tentatively starting again. She said she would tell him of the old ways when he was older. That's why they were calledthe old ways, because you had to be older.

Simba didn't like having things kept from him.

His sister had once had five other siblings, but she was the only one who lived to leave alongside her mother. She told him more than his mother did. She told him about how her father lost to silver-side and how he and his mute brother killed all the cubs. She said how her mother was the only one that stood up, and those deep scars down her back where what she got for it.

Simba sometimes looks at those scars when the sun hits his mother right, and you can see the grooves in her fur that shows where they hide. He used to think scars were cool, but now he knows they can also be very sad.

Sometimes he looks at Uncle Scar's face and wonders what happened. But Scar always tells him a different story each time.

It was just after midday when they got back to pride rock. Scar was back with one of the lionesses, but everyone else who had gone out was still away. She was covered in mud and wouldn't put weight on her left paw. When the cubs crowded close to learn what happened, Scar roared at them to chase them away.

Simba wondered what the rest would look like when they returned. Later Rafiki came with his stick and inspected her, Simba rushed over to his side, knowing that he would be welcome and also very curious to what he was doing.

"Oh no young girl," Rafiki had groaned as he carefully inspected her limp leg. "You've broken your bone in two." She started to cry, and Simba couldn't help but think of the big bones of the brave gnu and how the lionesses had cracked them in two so that the cubs could lick the soft marrow out.

"Can you fix it?" She asked, Rafiki frowned and shook his head.

"I will try," he admitted to her, but whatever he was feeling was making him shake his head over and over again.

"Please young king," she asked Simba, suddenly turning to him, begging him. What could he possibly do for her? "Please help me." Simba started into her eyes, she was young and Simba remembered how that one time she had brought a mongoose back for her first kill, and how Nala had scoffed and told Simba her first kill will be a giraffe.

They had been very little back then.

"Simba, come here," Rafiki said softly, guiding the cub over with his large hands. He guided Simba's little golden paw and placed it gently on the girl's leg. "You feel it?" He asked, encouraging him to trace softly how the bone was at the complete wrong angle. There was absolutely nothing that could be done for her.

_The circle of life. _Simba thought, bile rising in his throat as he looked back into her watery eyes. Why did the brave gnu die? Why did his sister kill him? Why did this young lioness break her leg? Why did the shower pass over today and cause her to slip down the muddy bank? Rafiki pulled a small fruit from his stick and gave it to her to chew. Slowly, she relaxed and fell asleep. Rafiki sighed and ran his hand along her leg in sorrow.

"I came to talk to your father," Rafiki told him, sitting beside the sleeping lioness. "The visions get more violent, the first change is at hand, my bones ache from the racket the ancestors are causing."

"What do they sound like?" Simba said in awe.

Simba looked down at the lioness. Wondering if she will be joining the ancestors soon. Maybe that was what she was begging of him. They say the kings have sway over the ancestor's decision; maybe she wanted him to beg on her behalf.

"He'll come back when he has dealt with the danger." Scar said, appearing out of nowhere in an angry huff. "They're still searching for those idiot elephants and probably never will. I reckon they've already crossed into the wastelands." Scar had bent down and said the last through gritted teeth to Simba. "But far be it for my opinions to be taken into account." Scar said with a sarcastic drawl. When he stood up his mane was ruffled, and the sleek black colour seemed to absorb all light and haloed him in darkness. Simba watched him wordlessly, torn between wanting a red mane like his father or a cool black one like Uncle Scar.

Scar seemed to suddenly remember the lioness, and asked Rafiki how bad it was.

"She will never recover." Rafiki said softly,

"That's what they said when I got struck by lightning but here I am now," Scar looked at Simba and grinned widely, "perfectly normal don't you agree?"

"You? Normal?" Simba scoffed as he followed behind his uncle. Scar looked around at the bratty kids, over bearing mothers, the broken lioness and the sad old monkey waiting for his king to return with vigilance. Simba saw it all too.

"Simba," Scar said to get his attention, "you're father sent me back early because I have a special extra mission."

"Really?" Simba asked, skeptical but curious at the same time. His head tilted to the side as he studied his uncle's gleaming eyes.

"He's got a surprise for you, down in the gorge, I'm meant to bring you to meet him." Scar used his large paw to scoop Simba along in the right direction. Quickly getiing his feet under him, Simba jogged to keep up with his Uncle. It was strange to set out into the Pridelands during the hottest part of the day, but Simba supposed time was of the essence. He just hoped it wasn't another dying zebra he needed to look in the eye.

The journey to the gorge was hot and quiet. He tried asking about what they were doing, but Uncle Scar would always shut him down with a smile. It only made Simba more curious. It was driving him insane. By the time they started to descend into the gorge both lions were panting. The shaded rocks they climbed down helped lift some of the heat from their bodies.

"Now you wait here, your father has a marvelous surprise for you." He spoke with acid, just enough for Simba to pick up on. He couldn't stand all the dodging around anymore. _Just tell me!_

"What is it?" Stepping into the shade of the one little tree growing stubbornly in the bottom of the gorge. Scar grinned and walked softly alongside his nephew.

"If I told you then it wouldn't be a surprise now would it?"

"If you tell me, I'll still act surprised," Scar saw right through him and chuckled.

"You are such a naughty boy."

He sat and curled his tail up close, upset that his Uncle was being so stubborn and, really, quite strange.

"Come on Uncle Scar," Simba pleaded, looking him in eye. Scar just put his head in the air and refused him over and over again.

"This is just for you and your daddy, you know, a sort of father son... thing." With eyes nearly rolling out of their sockets, Scar sighed at Simba's pleading.

Simba wondered if Scar even knew what it was like to do a father-son thing.

"Well, I better get going then," the big lion finally concluded, walking off quickly. Simba look after him in surprise. He was just going to leave him on this rock? What he would give to have been left alone to explore before, but right now he wasn't very keen on being alone in a gorge

"I'll go with you," Simba exclaimed happily, bouncing down the rock after him. Instantly his uncle tensed and whipped around, pushing him back up the rock.

"No." He said too quickly, startling Simba before laughing it off. "Just...stay on this rock. You wouldn't want to end up in another mess like you did with the hyenas." Simba's excitement dropped instantly, as did his stomach at the mention of the graveyard incident.

"You know about that?" Was his worst nightmare coming true?

"Simba," Scar said bluntly. "Everybody knows about that."

"Really?"

"Ohhh yes. Lucky daddy was there to save you aye? Ohhh, and just between us, you might want to work on that little roar of yours, hmm?" Scar tried to be comforting as he rested a paw on his nephew's shoulders. No matter that the grown lion's paw was half the size of Simba himself.

"Oh. Well, okay." So everyone knew, and even the most embarrassing details! Simba felt wrecked knowing that everyone in the Pridelands had probably heard the gossip by now. How could he ever show his face again? As Scar walked away, Simba felt cheer as he remembered the surprise his father had for him.

"Hey Uncle Scar, will I like the surprise?" He asked, hoping that one last question that wasn't really asking for much detail at all would be enough to crack the mystery open a little bit.

"Simba, it's to _die_ for." Scar said dramatically. Not very content, but realising he wasn't going to get anymore than that, Simba sat down and rested in the shade as Scar walked further and further away. He could hear a bird cry from way up above the gorge.

"Little roar. Pfft." Everyone was talking behind his back about his little roar, the weak little king. A stupid lizard crawled down from the bush and ignore him blatantly as he walked past, nose in the air. Simba bet the lizard thought he was a weak little cub too. Well he wasn't! And somebody ought to set those idiots straight or he would... he could...

Simba decided to set it straight himself, and with flattened ears he snarled at the lizard. When it ignored him he jumped down beside it and took in the biggest breath he could.

Focus Simba.

It kept on walking.

Well alright then. With a smirk Simba watched the lizard continue to walk, he eyed it and crouched like a predator ready to strike. Jumping up to it, he focused less on his breath and more on his voice, and as his roar came out the lizard scattered away so quick it was gone when he opened his eyes. His roar echoed all around him and up through the gorge, and Simba felt so happy as he heard it bounce around and fly down the canyon. He felt big. Listening closer, his heart started to skip when he heard another noise jump in.

The rumpling of a stampede, and the startled cries of animals. Birds flew into the air with alarm cries, and the little peddles by his feet started to jump and skip across the ground as the entire canyon shook.

Looking down the gorge, Simba watched in shock as gnu started to pour down the side, jumping and skipping down the steep rocks. More and more, until it was like a waterfall and the dust they threw up clouded them into one mass.

Everything in him went cold.

He watched them in disbelief, wondering what they were doing, knowing what was coming for him but not realising what it meant. As the first beast charged closer, it didn't seem that bad, but then the black mass sweeping after them and pushing them forward... one of the leaders tripped, and the many behind it simply charged over it because they could not stop what had begun.

Simba turned and ran. The pounding of their hooves and scared bellows breathed down his back and chased him. They were running from the stampede like him. He was now the leader of the stampede. But they were gaining so fast Simba felt like he was made of stone.

Once he chanced a look behind, and he nearly lost his footing. He was tired and scared. Why didn't they stop? He was the king, wasn't he? Why did they have to run? What made them run?

He managed a few more bounding leaps before he could hear their breathing as clear as his own. He looked above him, and sure enough the first one was over him, beside him, he was suddenly amongst them, desperately trying to avoid the forest of legs and striking hooves that swarmed him. There was no way they would see him down here, no way he would survive. He needed to get out, up out of the rising dust. His eyes locked onto a branch angling out amongst all the gnu legs, and he made a mad dash for it and scaled it in seconds with sure feet. But when he made a last jump along its curved truck, he went flying down and missed it. Only his pure luck saved him from being flung back down into the writhing mass of the stampede. Sometimes their horns would pass under him, close enough to scratch along the bark.

_Eat your heart out Nala_. Was what flashed through Simba's mind. She used to think climbing was useless from a lion to learn.

The dust was making him cough, and when he saw Zazu he felt so much relief but at the same time so much new panic because _this was real_ and he _needed to be saved_ _again_.

"Zazu help me!" he called to the bird as he slipped and clung to the shaking branch.

"Your father is on the way, hold on!" The distraught hornbill cried, Simba couldn't see him very well, too busy pulling himself up after he was nearly thrown clear off the branch. But he took one fugitive glance at the bird as he flew away in horror.

"Hurry," he managed to say. Trying not to cry.

His father.

His father was on the way to save him again.

He was such a mistake.

One horn caught the branch squarely and the vibration were so hard it felt like his brain got dislodged. He tried to hold on, but he couldn't do it much anymore. He was tired. Before he knew what had happened, he heard the cry of a gnu directly underneath him, and felt the force of the blow as the branch went sailing. He was thrown clear off it, and came hurdling down onto the beasts. He had really fucked up. If he hadn't of been such an idiot-

Simba gasped as he was caught and violently pulled in the other direction. He felt where his dad carried him, and gasped in surprised as the ground came within an inch of his nose before swirling into so many different colours as his dad sprinted and swerved through the stampede. There was a great hit and he was ripped away and throw across the gorge floor, he could hear his dad's pained roar rumbled as loud as the hooves.

Simba tried to get to his feet, he looked around and the gnu looked to be in even worse of a panic.

_Probably because of dad's roar_. Simba thought instantly. Then he remembered his own roars just before it happened. He kept having to jump and scramble away from them, and in the dust he could make out his dad running for him. When he picked him up again midstride Simba felt more terror than his entire life combined. His dad jumped up and onto a ledge safe on the side of the gorge, and as he was placed down with extreme care, Simba only had enough time to turn and catch a glimpse of his dad before he was gone again.

"Dad!" Simba cried, the bad feeling doubling and growing and crawling ontop of each other until he felt numb and shaky and ready to burst open and ooze it. He couldn't see him. He couldn't see anything down there. His dad was trapped on the ground as hundreds of his loyal subjects trampled over him.

There was a loud, pained roar, and Simba feared the worst until he saw the massive shape of his dad jump out of the dust cloud. He scrambled to get a hold on the rock wall, with clenched teeth Simba watched his dad pull himself higher and higher with all the power he could muster.

With dread Simba tried to find a way to help. He could rush up the rocks to his side and try to find a way along to the ledge his dad was climbing for.

Yeah. He would do that.

With a new determination Simba bolted away and up the tiny ravine in the rocks. He heard his dad's hurt cry, it shook his bones. Simba stopped dead in his tracks and watched with numb shock and denial as the gnu went past in a haze. He hadn't fallen. He hadn't fallen. He couldn't see his dad anymore, but that was just because he was on the other side of the rocks. He hadn't fallen. He couldn't.

And then he saw it, watched it in slow motion. His dad tumbling down, flailing and falling wildly. He was grasping for something he couldn't hold, and he was falling so hard and fast that the gnu looked like spikes waiting to impale him. The rawness in his fathers last cry made Simba stop thinking at all.

"NO!" Simba cried, all he could do. Just cry. He couldn't tear his gaze from that spot in the air, he didn't know how to.

He didn't know when he managed to regain himself, but when he did he was sliding down the gorge wall, crying and falling and hoping that his dad was still alright. Still down there.

He searched and cried through the empty, dusty wasteland. When a lone confused gnu ran by him with a noticeable limp, Simba felt such a strong hatred wash through him that he became plastered to the spot.

And then he saw it, in the swirling dust, limp under the cracked bow of an equally dead and trampled tree.

But he refused to believe that. His dad was stronger than a tree. Dads don't die.

But something in him knew, as he circled and saw the beaten body of his father. His sobs were wrecking his body, and the big lion was nothing but light fur.

"Help!" He cried. But no one was there, just tall dust clouds. How could this happen? Simba went back to his dad's side and tried to believe. There was hope, there could be. Was his chest moving? It could be. Simba pressed himself to his dad, trying to listen for the familiar booming heartbeat.

It was there.

Oh thank god.

Simba was crying now more than ever from equal sadness and joy, he pulled at his father's ears and begged for him to get up.

He started to stir, and when his dad's eyes opened, then looked straight past him. For many seconds Simba didn't know what to do as his dad looked past him, disgust creeping up onto his face followed by anger.

"Simba," Mufasa whispered quickly, like he didn't have the breath to say all he needed to. "Run." Simba was so shocked, his mouth hung open and he couldn't say a thing. His dad kept looking between him and the distance. Like he was tracking something. Simba was about to turn around to look as well when his dad struck him hard and sent him tumbling across the torn up ground.

"Get out of my sight!" His dad snarled, his expression one of pain and desperation. His eyes flickered beyond him, then focused on him with such a burning glare Simba felt his breath catch so much he was barely breathing at all.

"If I ever see you in my Pridelands again, I will kill you. Now get out of my sight before I do it now!" Mufasa launched himself half off the ground, keeping his cry of pain down as he watched his helpless cub stare on in horror. He glanced behind at where Scar was hurriedly stalking towards him, the telltale shadows of hyenas darting around him.

He will not let Scar get to his son. Anything to save Simba, anything. Mufasa looked away from his murderous brother running along the gorge, and to his beloved son crumpled in the dust.

Simba was trampled and defeated, and now Mufasa would be condemning him to a dangerous life of hiding. There was only one way to make sure his son did that right, in the short time he had.

"Get!" Mufasa roared, swiping at his son again. Simba stumbled and raced off, disappearing into the dust clouds without a word. He had just enough time to watch the disappearing tiny form of his cub before he felt Scar rake his claws across his face with extreme force. The blow made all his other injuries scream.

"Kill the king!" Scar cried to the hyenas before he too raced into the dust, intent on the trail of a cub he believed knew everything of his failed murder.

"Please, stop Scar, he knows nothing!" Mufasa cried after him in turmoil. He prayed Simba was scared enough to hide and run, scared enough to disbelieve Scar's sweet words if he ever got close enough. One of the hyenas lunged and got a mouthful of his ear and cheek, the creature swung viciously, ragdolling from side to side, tearing his ear to ribbons and yanking his head around in all directions. Mufasa roared and tried to swipe him away. One had his back paw in his mouth and was pulling at it and chewing, Mufasa felt dread as he watched and felt nothing.

One jumped heavily onto his back and Mufasa looked up into her cruel smirk with thunderous narrowed eyes.

"Boo," she said, making all of them fall over in giggles.

_Run Simba. Run as fast as you can. _Mufasa prayed.


	2. The Fear Of A Child Answers

The Fear of A Child / Answers

_A Scared Child, among Red Rocks and Thorns:_

When he had climbed out of the gorge, only to see the wastelands drenched in the setting sun, he didn't think twice about throwing himself down and into the thorns. It was where he belonged, some part of his soul knew. He flew like a wingless bird, thorns and baked rock ready to catch him. The anger of his father rolled over Simba and made him shudder where he lay, crumbling. Shame and humiliation hurt him more than the impact ever could. His uncle screamed vile things, and Simba tried his best to not hear any of it, but Scar was right. Even his father didn't want him anymore! What was there to be proud of, anyway? The King had finally seen through the golden fur to the useless cub underneath. Lucky he was so pathetic, to accept his deserved fate like the excuse he was, because otherwise Uncle Scar would have got him. The dark lion had screamed and skittered in a halt where he had been seconds before, the tips of his claws had scrapped his back and the rocks he scattered showered him as he ran into the thick, twisted thorns, no reservation, not even a look back, not even tears to blur his vision.

No one would follow him across the wastelands. There was no hope in the wastelands. Simba supposed it suited now, no hope cub making a no hope journey. No one would bother him if he put an entire wasteland between them.

The night is different when you're truly alone. Stinkier, scarier... more hidden.

The sun set on him leaping, hopeless, into the gigantic thorn wall that crawls up the gorge - they say it's trying to climb out of the wastelands. He ran and ran and ran and tried so hard to focus on his soft white paws striking against the jagged rocks. Sometimes he felt Scar breath down his bleeding back, but his royal Uncle had stopped chasing him long ago. The sun rose on him limping through sand, trying to run but so exhausted all he managed was a gauche shuffle.

The chill of night, which had stunned and soothed him at the same time, started to be pushed away by hot winds and bitter sunlight. An old stunted tree, haloed by her smaller children leaned against the side of the gorge. He had followed the gorge all the way east through the night, knowing that it bended and stretched into the depth of the wastelands for days. His dad had told him that the herds use it as a highway, to find their way into the Pridelands. Before it had sheer walls and a deep ancient floor, now it had reduced itself down to quiet banks, more like two gentle waves in the dry savannah then anything else. Simba pushed his small body in amongst the stunted tree and her children. Further into her twisted undergrowth, creeping along on his belly and wedging himself deep underneath roots. The sand underneath was nice and cool, and the ants that ran along the rocks were peaceful.

A long night of running and soundless tears had taken its toll, his paws were raw and bleeding, a claw was half twisted out and hanging on by a thread, his coat was full of so much pale dust that his natural golden was only a glimmer underneath when the sun hit it right. His breathing was laboured even though he had been going slow for a while, his lungs felt like they were full of acid and his brain felt like it was trying to ring itself and lap up the moisture that trickled out. There were still thorns from his fall cutting deep into his skin and the two gashes chillingly close to his spin from when his Uncle was a second too slow.

He was such a disgrace. There was no way he could get more pitiable than this. Always in trouble, always helpless. And now, actively hunted by his own proud family.

Simba looked back the way he had come. He felt guilt so hard he couldn't breathe and feared his own family so bad it made him choke...then he looked across the wastelands, with the little gorge stretching out like a crooked finger, steadily tapering off and disappearing. East. It made him terrified and excited all at once. A new world, a new start, a chance to just be a lion – a ferocious roaring brawling lion – the lion he always wanted to be, rather than a stupid king. No one knew his name or his past out there, beyond the horizon. East was where the sun rose. When he sat on pride rock and watched the sunrise with his father, he would have laughed if he knew one day he would be running that way, exiled. Shame and fear driving him away, but at the same time, new dreams making his heart race every time he looked up. Hope ran thick in his veins. He got no sleep, he just sat and watched all the horizons and waited for the bite to leave the day.

Soon the coolness of dusk fell, and he ran and ran, all night. He saw nothing but the stars and the barren land, he heard nothing but his pants and the wind flying across the flat like it was bloodthirsty. When the sun rose, the land was alien, and he could see nothing but empty mountains in the distance and flat horizons.

He watched the rising sun. Then he slowly started to chase it.

_Everything the light touches is our kingdom._

Then how on earth was he meant to leave it? There was nothing he wanted more than to just forget everything and run away. He wanted to leave his weaknesses behind and just run...

... and run and run...

Away from it all.

Sorry Nala, sorry Mother. Goodbye the Pridelands, the way you lie quiet likethe deepest part of black water, and burn up and rise.

When night fell again he took one step and found himself crying so hard he couldn't work out where to put his paws. He wanted to go home. This was all a bad idea, fueled by the hurt from his father's cutting words and Uncle Scar's claws and hurtful words, and also, his recent sadness. His mother would still want him to come home. Nala would be angry that he left her.

But by the time he decided to turn home, he was lost.

One day he couldn't find the strength to lift himself up out of a grass thicket he had wedged himself deep amongst. Peeking his head out, he looked like a cub shaped clog of dirt stuck between the long whispering grass. Simba watched with eyes gritty and full of dust, his cheeks patterned by oily tears caused from running against the wasteland's powerful winds. For miles the land was a sea of weedy grass, it grew tall, with sharp edged stalks instead of leafy blades. Sometimes he thought he could see antelope watching him from amongst it. But then the air would shimmer some more and distort them back into grass. He was so hungry that his stomach had felt like a ball of bugs all crawling around each other yesterday. Now it felt like an empty space. Like it walked off while he slept, or it fell out when he took that nasty tumble down the gorge's bank. He had been trying to follow it back to the Pridelands, but it folded into a deep canyon with bones on the bottom.

One day the wind carried a faint rotting smell. Simba tried to pull himself up, but collapsed down and let it go, slipping back into sleep. His paws burned, and muscles cramped around his bones so much he was stiff and pained.

In his dream his father watched as he tried to roar, but he could never manage a single sound. He hated sleeping, because each time his father was more angry and hit him more times. Then he would watch on as Scar chased him away, mocking him as he ran but never seemed to move.

Fool for visiting the graveyard. Fool for crying over the dying zebra. Fool for being scared. Fool for running down the gorge instead of hiding in the rocks. Fool for leaving. Fool for getting lost.

The angry squabbling of birds woke him up. Instantly he smelt it. It was a smell that would have made him retch back in the Pridelands, but right now his mouth was filled with droll. Squeezing out of his hide, Simba lifted his nose to the air and breathed deep in pleasure. It was close, very close, dead amongst these rocks... that close. Simba circled and spun around, calculating ways up the rocks. He could hear birds arguing up the top. Backing up, he took a running leap that got him half as high as he expected.

_I really am dying._ Simba thought in detached realisation. Clawing madly up the last few inches resulted in cuts and a shower of peddles. Stuffing a paw into a crack, Simba froze and then bunched his hind legs under him, jumping up and reaching out as far as he could, managing to roll over the edge and fall on his side, letting out a laboured groan as the air came alive with squawking, flapping and cursing. Simba inched his eyes open and glared at the five vultures all crowded around a certain deep space between boulders.

_A lion._

_Alive?_

_Lion baby!_

Instantly they were filtered out, all his attention on where they were gathered. It was down there, and they couldn't reach it. Quickly he stirred and prowled over, they shrieked in rage but fled before him all the same. One did a mock charge, his wings spread wide and head lowered as he hissed and spat, but he froze and fled when Simba locked eyes with him. Hungry red eyes have a power.

There was nothing dead to eat. With realisation Simba looked up from searching the rocks for a mouse or sparrow, to eye the vultures that had started to gather closer to him, their heads dipped and eyes pinning him now. The dead smell was coming from them.

"Little cub looks skinny." One of the vultures whispered in a sandpaper voice. Simba flicked his ear, a little angry at being called a little cub. He hadn't talked to anyone in a long time, and it was obviously taking its toll, his skin prickled from just having them looking at him, let alone addressing him. Craning his neck around, Simba glared at the young vultures. They had grey necks like snakes and eyes like rats.

Maybe his skin was prickling because of survival instincts, rather than new found anti-social habits.

The biggest ones beak was opened half way, like she was trying to show her amusement. Simba had only known one other bird, Zazu, and he was a high class snob (self-admitted) _she _on the other hand was of the wastelands. He didn't know how to read her, or how to respond to her. Her yellow eyes never seemed to blink. Was that normal for vultures?

He must have looked too long, because she stepped closer to the edge and hissed. Did she think he was eyeing her up as a meal? It made his body go rigid in a subconscious predator response.

Simba instantly decided that the best thing to do was to ignore them. With the new height he had a good look out of the land ahead. He studied the bleak hills and rock towers that rose bitterly around the gorge. The landscape was becoming familiar to him the more he wondered in circles, he even had names for a certain few.

The one with the sideways cave. Cracked Rocks, and its sister tower Snake Smell. Bruise Rise and The Tree He Had The Nightmare Under.

The gorge these days was less like a deep, carved out river, and more like a valley filled with towers and sometimes even tunnels, with old limestone walls and tiny puddles of water inside. He sat down and groomed his fur as he planned the coming day's trip.

The vulture's eyes were burning holes in him; sometimes he would look up while he was rasping his tongue over his shoulder and every time she was slightly closer.

"Are you lost?" She asked far sweeter than before. Simba had been in the process of running his paw over his cheek, and froze when her words rang though his mind and registered. Slowly he turned to look her in the eyes. There were a hundred flies around, and one landed on his right eye. He closed it and watched her though the other one and it bit at his eyelashes in frustration.

She was deflated, all her feathers pressed close to her body. A feverish gash rode on her shrivelled face, and her claws were filthy and feathers unkempt. She blinked at him and looked longingly.

Simba got to his feet and walked away, hopping down one ledge at a time and lumbering back out into the endless yellow stalks once more, blending in and becoming nothing. He had looked back at the newly named Vulture Rocks only once, and she had been huddled on the edge, watching him go with keen interest.

Some of the flies followed him; he must be smelling rank by now. Maybe the vultures thought he smelt rank too. Maybe they had thought there was something dead down in the rocks too, but it ended up being alive? Flies crawled over his eyes trying to drink from them; they even climbed in his mouth as he panted. But most gathered around his open wounds, lapping at them like a lost herd at a desert oasis. For a long time he fought them and swung at them, but it was like fighting the wind, and he was tired.

He came upon a rise and sat down to study the new view beyond it. He used to sit with perked ears and a tail that never lay still because of so much energy. Now he collapsed in a heap and never moved a muscle other than to pant big large breaths that moved his whole ribcage around. He hadn't eaten in a long time and his stomach seemed to be chewing its own walls in stress. Simba could trace where his stomach was because it was groaning so much and had laced itself now and again with discomforting pain.

_Are you lost?_

She had said it almost _hopefully_. He looked back as he thought of her and her two companions. The boulders they had met upon were still close enough to be in clear detail. He noticed them flying away, like a few faint strokes upon the sky, and everything was so quite in the wasteland that he could hear the shrieking that went on as they flew together.

Hungry, desperate, roaming the wastelands. They had a lot of things in common.

Watching them rise up and soar along, Simba realised the advantage of having wings. He felt jealous of their ability to just climb into the clouds and glide across the wastelands. It would be so much easier to be a bird... he could fly home to his mother.

He walked on, like a damned holy man. But he kept turning around to watch them fly, until eventually he realised that they were trailing him. For two days he travelled with them in the sky above him. Sometimes they would be gone; sometimes they would be right above him, their shadows circling him. At this point in time he was legitimately trying to live off dead grass, but all it did was make him gag and convulse.

One dawn he was sprawled out under a thick layer of dead vines which had grown on a frame work of long dead shrubs. That was the day they first landed. They had hopped under with him, giving his thin body a once over before joking he looked 'ready to pick apart'.

_Get in line,_ he thought. The flies had already eaten deep into his wounds and ripped at his eyes and lips. His nose was the worst off. So soft and fleshy and blistered from the sun - so sensitive too.

"You've not got long now." She had said suddenly. He frowned and wondered why that made them giggle amongst themselves.

He struggled to his feet and she had hopped out from under the shade and into the open, excitedly pumping her wings and telling him to hurry on his journey, though to where she guessed even he didn't know.

_Hurry!_

_Keep running!_

_You're nearly there!_

Simba eased himself up to his feet and dragged himself out to her with his head hung so low it seemed to dangle directly below his shoulders.

"Are you alright?" She asked in a strange voice, like she was holding back a smirk. He turned to look at her, and for the first time she got a good look at him and his face. She gasped in shock and stepped back.

_That bad huh? Spare me the details_. Simba thought to himself, too tired to be bitter. He then mustered all his effort into lifting his head high and squaring his shoulders. Lately life had been quickly reducing into one painful foggy memory.

That was a very bad sign.

_You've not got long now_

_You're nearly there!_

They left for a long time, or maybe he was just failing to notice them? He was getting bad seeing things lately. Noticing _anything_, really.

When the stars where coming out, she stopped and perched on a termite mound, and watched him stumble across the sands to her.

"It's not far now, I can see it clearly with my eyes, lost cub."

She was waiting to pick his bones clean. But like it mattered. He was dying anyway. So what if he had some spectators? At least he wouldn't die alone.

What a true failure he was. Even when there was no one to impress, he still failed. He curled up against the termite mound and closed his eyes.

His father looked more angry than usually.

Simba walked east a few more miles, or at least he thought he was, but in actual fact he was dragging his feet in slow, small circles. At one point he felt his mother nuzzle him to wake up, her concerned voice floating over him. _Don't cry Simba, it was just a nightmare. You're safe now._

That must have been a memory from long ago, because he had not slept safe in his mother's fur since infancy. A stupid need to be strong and big had made him do that, and he wishes with everything that he could go back and curl against his mother and fall asleep to her loud purrs.

The dream of his mother was interrupted when a shocking heaviness overcame him, and claws sliced along his shoulders. Simba cried out and with a gush of wind the heaviness was gone_. Still alive?_ He thought he heard someone whisper in annoyance. _What? You really want to eat him so bad?_

* * *

_An Ugly Vulture, standing over a Dying Cub:_

_I ain't never tasted lion before!_

_It's just a cub._

_Nice and tender then._

_I vote on letting the cursed soft-heart try her hand with him._

_Why on earth would you say-_

_Look at him! A golden lion. He should have been dead long ago but the demons don't touch him. What's he out here for? A criminal like us? It's a baby for puss and ooze!_

_A baby with big parents._

_Or no parents._

_Or parents that don't want him._

_Parents that can eat both of you, mushy brained twits! A few hours and we feast on the king of beasts, it'll be a legend to tell your granchicks._

_This aint no king, it's a cub._

_But if we were to try and save him, he'll need to be nursed back to health._

_Which is soft-heart's specialty..._

_Why you so interested in saving him all a sudden?_

_He should have died long ago, you said it yourself. Its unholy. A lost lion cub out here, its unholy. It makes my feathers spike nastier than thorns._

_Unholy. _The other agreed.

The word made the big female shiver as she turned around and looked across the sand to the death marked cub. It's bad for business to be going around saving ever dying animal. Meals in the wasteland were few and far between. Fancy ideas about a better life were not for her. They were made big and ugly so they didn't get any ideas about joining the sweet birds of the forest or the happy flocks that jet-streamed from luscious pond to bustling grasslands.

The gods made her bigger and uglier than usual for a vulture. She thinks because the beautiful life of a parrot or sparrow tempts her more than the rest. What she would give to be born a beautiful jungle bird, days spent lapping at exotic fruits and gossiping amongst the competitively fine flowers of the forest.

Life was cruel in the wastelands, but its where she is meant to be. The lion was a bit of luxury she had been looking forward to. It annoyed her that the two brothers where suddenly turning tail on the meal just because they were starting to feel funny. But she was outvoted, and she could respect that – besides – if soft-heart really did end up saving the cub, then she would have to be a miracle maker. And when the cub died, today, tomorrow, _soon_... she would have first dibs.

It's not like soft-heart and that bat shit crazy kudu where going to gorge down her special meal, now where they?

It took awhile to find soft-heart. Usually they spotted her daily, flying the same empty skies lead to a lot of gruff meetings upon the drafts, but today they seemed to be having odd luck (or ill-luck, she supposes).

In fact, it was soft-heart who found them. She was nesting amongst a low tree and spotted them flying across the clouds. As usual she flew out to greet them and attempt talk on weather and migration and such nice nonsense.

Most vultures are shocked the first time they meet soft-heart. They hear the tales of the crazy vulture who shuns meat and lives off grass, they hear the gossip about her latest attempts at preaching grass and salvation for all. Turn the weak my way, save the innocent, follow a better path. They conjure images of skinny foolish bird with bright feathers to match those scatter brained finches that hang about sometimes.

In reality, she looks just like her. With bland brown feathers and white skin, angry red around her eyes and across her bald head. Her beak is strong and her claws sharp. Some say that they look awfully similar, though soft-heart spends time preening her feathers smooths and has a concerned, steady look in her eyes. Herself on the other hand couldn't be bothered with hygiene and is surrounded in a constant haze of boredom and hunger.

Secretly, she's pretty sure her and brave heart are sisters, just like she's sure that ever vulture of her species in the wasteland is a sibling. Her parents are the only pair in the wastelands who can keep chicks alive long enough for them to leave the nest. General rule is, if it is doesn't have an accent then it's a sibling. If the two brothers she travels with weren't quite so idiotic she might have thought them related too. They are big and strong, a characteristic of her family, but at the same time greedy and their feathers a darker shade. Perhaps nephews, maybe, but not siblings.

Soft-heart is sickeningly ecstatic that they are actually helping her save the weak and defend the defenceless. Or whatever. When they show her, they need to go up and stand beside the cub because he's slim against the ground and the exact same colour as the sand and she can't pick him out for the life of her. Some vulture. She shrieks at them for not moving him into the shade and tells them to go fetch fleshy cactus. The brothers scramble to do her biding but not her. She squats and glares at soft-heart as she goes about preening the lion cub. It looks positively unnatural as she runs her beak through the cub's fur and inspects his injuries.

There is a thorn between his shoulders and soft heart pulls it out. Her feathers whiffle and plaster to her sides in disgust as the thorn keeps going and going and going... Her sister inspects his wounds and asks for grandmother's spit. She's more than happy to leave and fetch when soft-heart starts pulling out another impossible thorn.

The lion has regained consciousness when she returns, and soft-heart has him chewing the fleshy cactus and has dug a pit so he can lie down in cool sand. She oozes the grandmother's spit over his wounds and asks him when he'll be ready to walk again.

The cub flicks his ears and lies back down; eyes closed in relief as the spit coats his angry burns.

"Dose he usually talk?" Soft-heart questions. The brothers giggle amongst themselves with no intent to answer, so she looks down from where she rests in the tree to meet her younger sister's eyes.

"He's never said a word, just a lot of stuck up looks when he was more alive." Soft-heart's eyes are just like her mothers.

"How long have you been trailing him? Where did he come from? Where's he been going? Was he with anyone?"

It's ironic because her mother was more heartless than even herself. If she laid two eyes she threw one from the nest because she couldn't be bothered with twice the work. She told her to do the same if she ever found someone crazy enough to nest with her.

"About five days now. We first met him back near the whistling stones; he was sick and alone even then. He's been following the gorge until recently. He just collapses and wonders aimless now."

She shrugged her shoulders and turned away, determined that the conversation was at an end. No one _liked_ soft-heart, no one actually _talked _to her. She didn't want this, it was the brothers and their superstitions, yet they were the ones acting like they hated the entire situation and would sooner fly to the moon then stand another minute in the company of the leaf lover.

"Well thank you for saving him, he owes you his life." Soft-heart said.

She snorted and turned even further away from her little sister, a bit disturbed by how non-un-pleasant she actual was to be around.

"But you don't need to hang around you know. You should leave." For the first time the brothers looked up from their huddle and squawked with their usual hysteria when it came to food.

"What do you mean? He could still die!"

"You want him all to yourself, don't you?"

"He'll live. He's still strong." Soft-heart said with a cold voice, she regarded the two brothers and their puffed out chests, the way they greedily eyed the cub even though it was them that were too scared to eat it.

"Beat it," she snarled at them. They were hungry and turning rabid. When they looked up at her in confusion, she learned over her branch some more and snarled a bit louder, "go fly to the moon." Which was a vulgar way of saying 'leave and I don't care if you die'.

They did as such. They knew better than to argue with her.

She hopped down onto the ground and spread her wings as she prepared to leave.

"Good luck," she said grouchily over her shoulder as she took off into the air. Soft-heart said something filled with surprise and happiness as she flew, but she ignored it and forced herself to brood over the lost meal instead.

This was all very bad for business.

* * *

_A Cub, somewhere Safe and Dark:_

The air was cool and his body felt eased. He smelt the water and lime stink of the gorge's caves, and when he stretched experimentally, he felt a thick bedding of grass instead of hard ground.

That crazy bird had been right after all. She had promised him a soft bed if he followed her. He couldn't remember much of the journey, just a lot of stops in the shade, and foul sticky meals she kept bringing to him.

She was here. He could hear her, rustling her feathers and the thumping of her heart. It was racing. When he lifted his head to look around she jumped to her feet instantly.

"You're awake! That's good. Please have a drink." She said nervously, inclining her head to the blackness of the cave. Was this a trap? A drink of water, just offered up to him? Simba looked deep in the cave and couldn't help think of the cave in the elephant graveyard that the hyenas had come spilling out of. It also made him think of the small tunnels that had saved him as Scar chased him through the rocks. He could smell water, so there must be water. So she wasn't lying, she was just being edgy about something. Simba struggle to his feet and his ears twitched back and forth as his muscles screamed. He look a few small steps, eyes narrowed as he tried to search the back of the cave for a puddle or a –

There was the sound of gentle splashes, and his paws all of a sudden became soaked and cold. Simba looked down and realised that the floor was water. He looked up again and realised as his mind adjusted that the entire cave floor was a lake. No wonder it looked so dark and empty.

"When the rains come it fills all the way to the top of the cave, you know." The vulture said from a safe distance as he slowly lowered his head and lapped at the water. It was marvellous, cold and wet, it didn't taste like mud or slime at all, which struck Simba as weird. All the water he had drunk in his life had come from the busy watering holes or old ponds. Even the stagnant pools he had found in other caves like this had tasted stagnant and dirty. Not able to resist, Simba waded into the water and lay down with a sigh that echoed around the cave. With closed eyes and held breath, he ducked his entire body under the water and rested for a few moments like that. With the water swirling against his wounds and rubbing the grit out of him. He crawled halfway out and rested his head on his paws and lay like that with bliss. Paws that had been hot and blistered for eternity were finally cool and mending, thorns that had been imbedded in him were finally gone.

His eyes were closed when he felt a beak nip at his ear. It made his heart squeeze and adrenaline rush through him, and when he threw his head up and growled the vulture was already halfway out of the cave in a storm of feathers.

"What were you doing?" He asked, eyeing her well executed escape. She was still struggling to slow her heavy breaths down, and like before, her heart was racing.

"Ah, checking for ticks or thorns I might have missed."

"Thorns?" That was weird, _missed thorns_, he turned his head to the side as he inspected her a new.

"You had," she stumbled over her words and started again. "You had a lot of thorns stuck in you. Would you like me to check that they're all gone?" Simba thought about it before inching himself out of the water.

"Yes please." He said, shaking himself off like a warthog and grimacing as he thought about how the lionesses would have scolded him for getting wet. It was actual very nice, to have her part his fur and rip a few painful ticks from his neck. It reminded him of the times when Zazu tried to smooth his hair down and pull out twigs after a day out exploring. He would say that the Queen would eat him if he returned her cub in such a state. Drama queen Zazu.

Simba chuckled to himself. Then he nearly cried as he remembered his current situation.

"What's your name?" Simba asked the vulture. She was careful to not put him between her and the exit, and Simba thought she seemed pretty afraid considering it was her ordering him around on the way here.

"Sili Nyama, but just call me Sili." Simba nodded and lay his head back down on his paws.

"What's your name?" She asked lightly when she paused in her inspection. Simba started into the dark cave.

"I don't care. You choose a new name."

She complained and went on about that not being right. She tried to convince him otherwise. But in the end she preened in silence, and when they were done, she said "Nia," Simba looked at her funny. "It means purpose. Something that you need, little lion." Simba didn't like it, it reminded him too much of Nala. It was a girl's name as well. But true to his words, he didn't care.

"You're too weak to leave the sanctuary, so stay and rest while I go get something."

"I'm not weak," Simba grumbled as she waddled out on her over proportioned talons. He was used to Zazu's small little feet, good for hanging onto twigs and flower stems. This bird's feet were made to tear what others could not.

Simba looked at his own paws. The cuts where oozing and the bruising still made him want to lie down in the few days he had left and never walk again. The twisted claw was still hanging loose, the vulture, Sili, had tried to tug it out but he had growled making her quickly move on. It was strange, how she was afraid of him now. Like she hadn't realised back in the moment that she was saving a lion, and now she was stuck nursing the most dangerous animal she ever could meet back to full health.

_No wonder she wants to go fetch me food as soon as possible. Doesn't want me to start consider her._

He lay down and watched the darkness as if it held all the answers. What a mistake he was, how stupid he was. What to do now. What the vulture wanted in return. It was a long time until she came back, but the freshly dead mouse in her talons was worth it.

He ate it slowly.

And that was how life was for a long time. He slept and drank to his content, and he had three small meals a day delivered into his paws. It made him feel like he was her chick, squawking and needy in the nest. The bedding didn't help, because it really did feel like a big nest. With the grass all bunched and weaved over the sand that had blown in over the seasons. Every day he got stronger, more alive...

More bored.

Eventually it came to the point that when she left, he would sneak out and sit just outside the tunnel. The view was bleak, the bottom of a gorge - the same gorge actually – and it made his heart clench with panic and shame though it looked nothing like that time.

He would sit down and watch the clouds. It still hurt to walk so he never really felt strong enough to explore anymore than that. There was plants growing in the cracks, and a colony of ants scurried through them and a line went up the wall and into the cracks. He watched them a lot too.

_From the crawling ant to the leaping antelope, we all play a part._

When he groomed himself, he would always frown at how bony he was and how thin his hair had become. Once his only worry was that his mane wasn't growing in yet.

She would return and complain about him being outside the cave, even though he was hardly out of it. _You must rest and stay hidden._

_Why?_

That would make her complain some more about troublesome cubs.

She wasn't scared of him anymore. Sometimes she would hit him on the head with her wing and insult him with curses he had never heard of before, so he wasn't sure just how rude they really were.

One night she brought back a hare. It was a lot paler than the ones back home and its ears where tipped with black. He licked the blood off it, and then for the first time realised that Sili never ate. Perhaps it was because he was finally healthy enough that the sight of food didn't send him in a desperate spiral of _eat,food,eat,eat,food_.

Simba looked up. She was preening herself and rubbing the blood from the kill off on the rocks.

"Do you want some?" He asked, trying to remember what politeness was. She coolly regarded him and her kill.

"No. I don't eat meat." That was confusing.

"But... aren't you a vulture?" Simba asked as he tried to put what he saw and what she said together. It was a slow and odd process.

"Yes." She nodded with confidence.

"So you're a special fruit eating vulture?"

"No."

"So you eat..."

"Plants, succulents mostly, any nuts that I can find. There is a particular type of grass that has a nice taste to it."

"Then you haven't been the one hunting my food,"

"No." Simba didn't know what to think. She was a herbivore but she knew how to hunt. And was a very good hunter considering how well she was feeding him

"You've been killing them." He said, eyeballing her.

"Yeah."

Simba stared for a long time, and she regarded with a relaxed, undisturbed aloofness that grated harshly against his own very disturbed mood.

"I think you're ready to start moving around. I'll take you on a tour of the area midday when everyones asleep_."_

"Okay." Simba agreed. Happiness taking over. With one last look at the perplexing bird he crushed the rabbit's skull and started carefully eating ever last morsel.

* * *

_A Mysterious Friend, outside the Healing Cave:_

It was midday when he came by. The cub was asleep in the shade and his breaths seemed to move his bones from in and out of his skin.

"He is still weak," I observed, my heavy head bending to get a better look at the king of beasts. Not many saw lions out here, and no one had ever seen a lion this close.

And lived to tell about it.

There was nothing lucky about this cub. He was still small enough to be called defenceless, and the malnutrition will stunt him for years to come. The peculiar friend of mine looked as proud as she did concerned when her eyes rested on her project.

"You're too brave, to mother the king of beasts. It will not turn out well and I will have no part." I turned and left, hoping to leave before the lion awoke.

"What! Why?" Sili squawked, her noisy wings carrying her from rock to my back. "You can't abandon me!" He understood what that meant. He was infamous throughout the badlands for his odd ways. He judges no one and helps all. Talks rarely, but is nearly always singing in a low voice an ancient song to an ancient god. Sili became inspired by his selflessness and changed her life to one of harmony. He finds is very strange what she does in his name.

Mothering lions one of them.

"Fools errand, this is no foal or chick, this is a king." There were queens, knights and clowns. Even the lords and ladies he could understand, but idiots meddled with kings. "Fly away as fast as you can, and do your best to forget all about him."

Sili seemed hurt as she gaped open beaked on his back.

"Why are you so scared of him?"

He tensed. Phantom pains came back.

"I preach to all, you know this, but I do not, ever, let the lions see me. You badlands creators don't know of lion, but I come from outside, and they are stupid with power."

"But he is not stupid with power, he is weak and helpless. He needs protection. I am a bird, I can't fight the hungry away. Please, help me. Help him. He's still just a small child."

I closed my eyes and sighed. In ancient times King's had wise beasts, but today King's didn't even respect another's life, let alone another's council. Could he really teach this cub humility and wisdom? He had lived his life till now thinking that there was no way to change the corruption. Exile had come as a relief to him.

He looked at the cub again, he walked over and inclined his head different ways and thought how small he truly was when he came closer. Tiny, insignificant as the dust he lay in.

In ancient times he would be called a wise beast, and this cub would be called a king. But today he was a no one and the cub was nothing.

"Okay."

I looked in his face and saw the lions that killed my mother, the lions that tore apart my friends, the lions that chased me through the night.

"No."

"Nah! Too late, you can't take it back!" Sili cried happily as she jumped down onto the cub, causing him to cry and jump and fall down again with a groan.

Dammit.

"Who in the bashes are you?" The cub said in anger. I despised the tone, though Sili smiled some more. The cup started to struggle to get her off his back.

"You're teaching him swear words?" I asked her, ignoring the cub as if he didn't even exist to me. Sili smirked as she perched on the defeated lion.

"Its not my fault, I said it only once." The cub scoffed, proving that she was lying like usual. "Besides he only picked up vulture swear words, not any of your special Kudu swear words."

"Kudu do not swear."

"Oh really, well those Kudu ladies out west might have something different to say-"

"First lesson: don't swear around me." I looked the cub in the eyes and my sudden attention to him made him startle. He looked frightened. I tasted sweetness when I saw that.

"This is Upweke, a friend of mine. I've asked him to help you." Sili said to her cub. His ears suddenly lay flat against his skull. Interesting, I wonder what emotion that was. I've never really known a lion well enough to observe their own ways.

"Help me?" He sounded offended.

* * *

_The Cub, somewhere Safe yet Scary:_

Simba was terrified. It felt like something had crawled inside him and oozed cold water. Half of the big antelope's face was gone. He could see his teeth through his cheek and down his neck flowed cuts so wide he imagined he could stick his paw inside.

The big antelope scoffed, causing the loose skin that survived the trauma to his face to billow out.

"Tiny king too good for help?"

Everything dropped to his paws as that word flowed over him.

"What- King? I don't know what you mean-" _How had they known?_ His father had told him never to come back, but maybe his mother or Zazu had sent word to the sky. His Uncle had wanted him, perhaps Scar had ordered him returned?

The healing claws marks along his spine tingled in thought of his Uncle. He had been furious, he wanted Simba to pay for his crimes against the King.

He sighed and hung his head.

"So you know." What were the animals saying? Weak little king who ran off like a fool? Evil prince plotted to kill his father? Spoilt king can't deal with real life? He had hoped that Sili would just think him a normal abandoned cub. He had even been entertaining ideas of growing up here, with Sili to teach him the ways of the wastelands he could make it. Exploring the caves of the gorge, protecting his territory, standing on top of the rock towers and roaring and hearing the deep sound rumble over the plains forever and ever... his own lion, no rules or manners, no policies or expectations. Just the wastelands and him.

"Well you don't pass for a cheetah kid, no matter how skinny you seem." Sili chuckled. "It isn't shameful to be a lion, Nia. You're not like the others." She and Upweke shared a glance before she jumped down to the ground and inspected his chocked up expression. "I get that you don't want to talk about where you're from and how you ended up here, and that's fine, I get it. But we won't judge you for being a lion. You're safe with us."

Judged for... being a lion? Just a lion? Simba decided to stay silent for awhile.

"Thankyou." He offered up to Sili in a confused whisper. She shuffled away from inspecting his face to stand by the scarred antelope's feet. She smiled brightly as she looked between the two scowling creatures.

"You ought to be more excited. You've got permission to go out and explore now! And Upweke is far more wise than me. Come on Nia, look alive." She spread her wings and scrambled her way up onto the high shoulders of Upweke. "Shall we show him the mysterious drawings today, or the enchanted tree?" Upweke lost all his anger as he pretended to contemplate his friend's ideas.

"I'm thinking the secret trail." He said as he turned and left the cave. Simba got a distinct impression that the antelope did not like him, and he was back to blatantly being ignored.

"What! But I wanted to go somewhere exciting today- ah Nia, come on kid!" Sili yelled as she flapped around, getting comfortable on the buck's back. Her large eyes, with the ever present burning stare, followed him as he got to his feet and jogged to keep up with Upweke's long strides. She smile softly when he looked up at her with an unsure expression racing across his face.

"The secret trail is exciting." Upweke mumbled. He flicked his large ears as a fly came too close. Simba wondered what type of antelope he was. He had never seen one like Upweke before.

"Only for boring people." Sili grumbled out the corner of her beak.

"That's because you fly everywhere."

A little time past with Simba following close in Upweke's shadow as he picked a well practiced route out of the gorge and onto the badlands.

"Um, Upweke, sir." Simba said uncertaintly, his neck craned painfully as he tried to look up at the large buck's face.

Upweke didn't seem to hear him. _Great, I can't even talk loud enough to be heard._

"Upweke," Sili hissed, highly unimpressed.

"What?"

"Answer Nia." She scolded, to which Upweke sighed and groaned before stopping and bringing his decorated head down to stare with dead eyes at Simba.

"Um, what sort of antelope are you? I've never seen someone like you before." Upweke's eyes seemed to actually show some sign of emotion as the question was asked.

"I'm a Kudu,"

"Kudu," Simba echoed, trying to remember if he had ever heard of them. When he was being groomed for king he was expected to know every animal. Upweke nodded his head, making his large spiral horns cut through the hot air.

"Specifically the Mkubwa kind, which is the biggest." He stepped up onto a rock and shuffled his way down a dusty bank. "If you've never seen one like me, then you're not from the east." He stopped and frowned at his own words. "There is nothing to the north but acid water and sand, and west is the Pridelands. So you must be from the south, the ridges?" Simba wasn't good at lying.

"I, ah, don't really want to talk about it."

"Nia, sometimes it _helps_ to talk about it." Sili interrupted from high on the Kudu's back. She was always trying to get him to talk about who he was. Simba frowned. He needed to frame his question right.

"How did you know that I wasn't from the Pridelands?" He had to walk behind Upweke now, because the rocks they were weaving through had started to press close.

"There is only one pride of lions in the west, and someone born to them would not find themselves here. They all think they're so fine. I visited for the birth of the royal son a season back, and the way they act, those lions." He turned his nose to the air and Sili laughed loudly. "From what they say, you would think they own the entire world and everyone should be thankful for it."

Simba expected such words to hurt him. But in actual fact they seemed to heal him. The spiteful feelings that burned in his heart were flooded and eased with Upweke and Sili's complaints. He was right to think what he did, why did the Pridelands need a king to lord himself above everyone? He was right, no one appreciated it, it was foolish.

"Wait, did you say you where there for the prince's presentation?"

"Um, yes, I believe that's what they call it. Though I didn't go to the actual showing, that was for royal animals only." Upweke said gruffly. When he fell silent and was obviously not going to talk anymore, Sili snapped her wings to her sides and her eyes were wide with wonder when she turned to look at Simba.

"Oh, little cub, this grumpy Kudu does it no justice. I've heard the stories! It's basically one of the greatest festivals an animal can hope to attend in their lifetime, thousands gather. Plus Prince Simba's ceremony coincided with the returning of the herds. There were millions of creators of all sizes everywhere you looked. The songs and the dances! And you'll never believe the abundance they speak of. Upweke said that where ever he went the grass was soft and grew above his stomach." Upweke grunted in distracted agreement and Sili's eyes were growing bright.

Simba had never seen grass as tall as that, and everywhere he went? He suppossed that must be what his home looked like when the herds where away. He had grown up with the millions a graze, birthing their foals and fussing about. In a few moons they would be on the march, something which he had looked forward to witnessing. A pridelands with more than half the animals gone? How crazy!

That was back when he was young.

"Why didn't you go with him?" He asked Sili, whose wings half raised in an expression Simba had come to learn meant 'hey now!' Upweke turned his head to the side and regarded her casually out of the corner of his eye.

"You were still eating meat back then; the carcasses would have been too scarce for her and the competition for the few dead was brutal. Hunting is forbidden during the festival."

"Well next time, I'll have to go." Sili said, then she looked around and declared "we should all go!"

"You're going to be waiting awhile, they say the queen is barren now. Only when the prince has his own children will it happen again." _What? Has word not reached here that the prince was gone? _

"Barren?" Simba asked, very dizzy from his pride being talked about like this, with even himself being mentioned. This old antelope had walked for days to celebrate his birth. It was a strange thought.

"Too old to have children."

What? His mother was not that old... was she? His half-sister was rather old, he supposed, which made his mother pretty old herself. He had never realised.

"Did you hear the word about her? That the lion king ordered her to him to keep the bloodline strong. Apparently she was a warrior queen in her home lands, she had slaughtered males twice her size." Upweke had a strange tone. Sili gasped, but Simba was stunned so much he _froze._ Lucky he was walking behind them and recovered without being noticed. Sili had been busy complaining loudly to her chaperon anyway.

"I hate lions, how they think they can just order others around. Sorry kid," she said in a very not-sorry way, "And lion royalty, they're the worst. Always making laws and changing rules. You've got to walk a certain path and your species can only visit the watering hole at a certain time." She clicked her tongue and tousled her feathers.

"They take what they want." Upweke's face was one of pain, and his eyes were dark.

The tight path through the rocks opened out onto a view that lasted for miles across the thorny grass. Simba's jaw dropped as he studied the horizon and realised he could see the Prideland's mountains.

Home. He could see it. He couldn't tear his eyes away, but at the same time he didn't ... _ache_, like he had before. The previous wish to be welcomed back like it was all a bad dream was gone. He turned and looked at what could very well become his new family.

It was then Simba realised Upweke's scars matched a lion's claws perfectly.


	3. Kings Don't Need Advice

Kings Don't Need Advice

_A Grieving Mother, somewhere in her Memories:_

Sarabi remembers when Simba was just a flutter under her skin. How Mufasa would lean his head to her soft belly and rest there, eyes closed. When her time neared her nipples wept and her belly felt too heavy to stand. Back then she didn't know, boy or girl, golden like Mufasa, fawn like her? Good, twisted, deformed, handsome. She did not know, but she loved it with her entire being anyway. This thing, which she had grown from Mufasa. Grown strong in her blood, grown its own little frail bones while inside her, grown its own little undeveloped paws and eyes and mind.

Sarabi remembers when Simba was just an extension of her. How her body eventually evicted him. The pain... how he ripped her apart. How he landed – sliding, doubled over himself in the sack which he had grown from, her own veins from inside her laced around him. He didn't move. Still thinking that he was inside his mother's womb, still afloat in her. Too shocked to move? Didn't know how to move?

She licked him, scooped him in her paws and rasped over her tiny, tiny, beautiful cub until he stopped being slimy and tasting of iron, but instead, a coat, drying into a brilliant golden colour and little pink paws striking fitfully against her skin. Her son whimpered for the warmth and steady heartbeat of her womb. She buried him against her side and gently licked his tiny sealed eyes and his ears, yet to uncurl.

He did not eat at first. It was essential that her son learned to drink her milk before he was pushed into the world. She had seen mothers who failed to do this; she had seen the trouble it caused their cubs. Mufasa was anxious to come into the dark, cool cave and see his cub for himself. Sarabi, however, was not ready to let anyone in to see her. Back in her pride a lionesses would keep her cubs hidden for weeks after the birth, far away from anyone, _especially_ the father. But the Pridelanders were different; they all wanted to see her cub as soon as it had fallen out of her womb, gawk at an easily hurt infant then throw a celebration the next day and have that god damned baboon hold him over a ledge. The cub was not ready for the outside world yet. At least when Sarabi was concerned.

In a way, her son was still inside a womb, a big dark cool womb with his mother, but still, he needed time to grow, a quiet place to finish his last developments. A safe place for his eyes to peal open, for his ears to unfurl and for him to learn how to hold his head up without toppling sideways.

One of the elder lionesses came into the cave, and Sarabi snarled at her to leave immediately.

"So sorry my Queen, of course, the King just wanted to know if you were hurt."

"You can tell the King that I am fine…" and with a mischievous glint to her eyes, she added "…and busy teaching his young _daughter _to suckle."

The old female hurried away with silent paw steps. Sarabi frowned as her son continued to refuse to drink.

"This is essential little cub," Sarabi told him softly. "It is very good for you, you need it to become a beautiful fat cub." Droplets dripped from her every time she stretched and moved, and eventually her little son got a taste. He was still confused as to how to get it, but was licking it off her skin with growing interest. When his little mouth eventually figured out how to suckle, an hour had past since his birth.

"Troublesome cub," Sarabi grumbled as she laid back and sighed. At least he was not like that one grey cub she had too many season ago... she never figured it out.

Her womb ached with childbirth and her lack of cubs was taking its toll, her teats were starting to glow red and sting constantly due to the pressure of all the milk stored behind them in anticipation for a hungry litter of cubs.

To her relief her son quickly filled his tiny stomach, drinking more milk than she thought possible, and he fell asleep quite immediately with his little wobbly head rested in her fur. Being born is tiring, Sarabi thought lovingly as she settled him in her paws. Mufasa told her that even though the royal seed produces one cub, that cub is strong and will drink more and grow more than the common lion.

She watched the future king. He was tiny now, blind and deaf, unaware of the world that existed outside his mother's warm skin and the cave's smooth floor. One silent tear welled up, but did not shed as she watched him rock with each breath. This was the first time she had held a cub of hers and been truly, deeply happy. She wouldn't have to watch him starve to death because she was too weak to produce milk, she wouldn't have to watch him be slaughtered when the kings changed yet again, she wouldn't look at him and fear the shape of his nose or colour of his toes, be scared of her own child and who he could grow to resemble.

"Mufasa, you can come and see now." She called out warmly, the cave's stone walls echoing her words down the dark collider. Almost instantly a massive lion came running into the cave and up to her. Though he was huge and rippling with muscles, his footsteps were silent and his every movement precise. He was silent as he studied his son with such content that it made Sarabi swell in pride.

"Unbelievable," Mufasa said with awe in his voice as he settled to lay beside his mate. Sarabi chuckled. She moved their cub so that Mufasa could see his son as the cub gave another soft toothless yawn.

"Sarabi! Don't do that, you're going to wake her up!" Mufasa hissed aghast at his mate. Even though they were close in age, Simba was Mufasa's first child. Sometimes Sarabi forgot that he did not know as much as her when it came to cubs.

"Oh relax Mufasa, not even a stampede could wake this child up." Sarabi leaned onto the broad shoulder of her mate as she viewed their beautiful cub. "And it is your son, not daughter. What made you assume that?" Before Mufasa could scold her for tricking him, their adorable newborn stretched his pink paws out, touching one of Mufasa's paws lighter than a feather. However the big lion reacted like he had been struck by lightning.

"He touched me!" Mufasa said, aghast, he looked between Sarabi and their cub rapidly, like he was wondering if he had somehow hurt the cub.

"Yes Mufasa, that tends to happen." She said with a laugh, too happy for her usual sarcasm.

"Simba," she said and Mufasa thought it was perfect.

She watched her little Simba live and take his first deep breaths. He was beautiful

* * *

_A Grieving Mother, somewhere in Reality:_

Sarabi ran light footed through the grass. Today was the day! This morning, any moment, her head was whipping back and forth from watching her feet to scanning the sky for royal stewards on the wing. With an agile leap she flew out of the grass and landed on the waiting rock, slipping a little bit as her speed continued to pull her forward even as she dug her claws into the weathered granite boulder.

Technically she wasn't meant to be here, Scar had chosen Naanda to await the returning lions, and had allocated Sarabi to hunting in the south of the Pridelands, the furthest he could get her from the precise spot she was current standing on.

"What're you doing here!" Naanda spluttered at her, angry that Sarabi had interrupted her sunbathing.

"I'm going to welcome the party," Sarabi said with a breathless smile on her face, she scanned the horizon, sometimes thinking she could see them. Abdiel, one of the royal stewards, had flown ahead to meet them, and she envied the tiny wood-dove so badly right then.

"But _I'm_ welcoming the party..." she paused as she realised, then a face of understanding slide onto her face."You're gonna get in _trouble_ Sarabi." Naanda lashing her tail against the hot rock. There was a reason Scar had promoted her so high in his new pride order, she was a grumpy lioness who did what needed to be done as efficiently as possible. However he was yet to know her as well as Sarabi and the other lionesses did. Sarabi thinks on Naanda's two cubs, Enma and Kalifa. They were horribly mischievous, one antisocial and the other yet to grasp how to talk to other cubs without offending them. Exactly like their mother. Sarabi was pretty sure that Naanda's mate had been one of the ones to leave in the party. Sarabi wondered why she wasn't more excited, though maybe sunbathing was how the lioness coped with nerves.

Sarabi violently pushed away any memories of Simba that the thoughts sparked. Convinced if she just refused to dwell, she could be alright. She had promised herself that today would be a happy day. She wouldn't ruin the return with her bad mood. She pushed all thoughts of Mufasa from her mind too. Though her throat tightened so much she choked when she tried to swallow.

In the distance a lion roared. Ever muscle twitched in excitement and she extended her neck as far as she could in hopes of seeing them apart from the grass. As her job required, Naanda roared back. Her smoother roar echoed for a few moments before they replied, four... _five_, male voices called back.

So they hadn't lost anyone. The whole pride had been prepared for a loss, and a smile grew uncontrollably on her face. Sarabi supposed that the pride had suffered enough, and the supposed ancestors had seen fit to spare them. Beside her Naanda sighed in relief.

It was Naanda's job to stay on top of the waiting rock, but Sarabi was under no such restrictions. She jumped down and ran for the roars, sending a sorry look back to Naanda who stalked in tight circles upon the rock. They could still be a mile off, but with every step her excitement grew. The sound of their roars still trembling throughout her memory.

Sarabi ran for a small time, bounding over rocks and uneven ground, her sure feet changing periodically from shaking with excitement to stead as the stone she had once been named after.

When she cleared a fallen tree and perched on top of its old trunk, she could finally see them. Big manes bouncing as they trotted along, Abdiel the wood-dove escorting them along. She cried out to them, and they stretched as they tried to look above the grass.

She tried to identify them all, but there was one she couldn't recognise for the life of her. And also she couldn't find Shalom, Sarafina's brother, his distinctive striped mane wasn't amongst them. Sarabi felt confused, and terrible scenarios started to multiple in her mind. Sarafina had two brothers go out west to the Lakelands along with her mate, and Sarabi could clearly see Nala's father at the front of the party, his orange eyes sweeping the grass like the cautious traveller that he was. Sarabi could also see the other surviving brother, looking like he was ten years older than when he had set out half a year ago, but they were there, at least there was that.

She leaped through the grass like an antelope, jumping high above the tall grass to see how close she was getting to them. She could pinpoint the moment they recognised who she was, because all their faces dropped.

They would have heard from the birds. When they left she had been a happy queen, beside the love of her life with a baby on the way. They returned to a Sarabi with a dead cub they never got to met and a crippled husband who never wakes from endless sleep.

When they finally met, the first thing to be said was – _Oh Sarabi, I'm so sorry_. It wasn't from one lion, it was from everyone, in different ways. Weather they actually said anything or just looked with those long faces.

"Thank you for the condolences," she inclined her head stiffly to the lion who had just finished detailing how he grieves for the struggling king...ex-king...prince? It was a matter which everyone struggled with. Sarabi resigned herself to the fact that this reunion would not be the turning point in her happiness, but instead a new wave of apologies and horrible discussions. It was even worse when they opened their mouths but close them again, or when they didn't close them fast enough and actually said some blundering apology about her cub. They had never met her cub.

And they never will.

"I see that Shalom is not with you," she observed, making a point to look in the eyes of the brother.

"He's paid his debts to the land," the brother, Sergeo, told her in a voice Sarabi had to strain to hear. She grew up surrounded by death, and when someone died the lions told it true, but with the Pridelanders they tended to be a lot more indirect, with their whole circle of life poetry. How a pridelander would go about saying that their young cub was dead, and that their mate was brutally crippled, suspected for brain dead? The land takes the young who owes nothing, and tries to claw its dues from the other.

Seeds and dirt clung to her tan coat. Her chest and legs were soaked so much they shined silver. Sarabi commented on the returning lion's condition in turn... it was good to see you well, happy to see you fit, a bruised rib cage is nothing if not honourable. The pride is proud of you all and is eager to see you back home. She said nothing of the new King Scar, and they noticed.

Finally she turned to the new comer and narrowed her eyes at him. He was much younger than any of the lions of the party, and was staring at her with his jaw on the floor.

"Who are you?" He twitched in surprise, and stumbled upon his words a bit before gathering himself.

"My name is Kuu," he said, ducking his head in a quick bow. "I am a lakelander, and I have travelled in hopes of joining your clan as an act of goodwill and thanks from my pride, in return for all the Pridelands have done for us." He paused and struggled with his next words, "It's an honour to meet the legendary Stone Heart."

Stone Heart. No one had called her that in a long time. It brought back memories of her guerrilla years, and for a brief moment she felt like she was covered in blood and plastered with mud all over again. She studied him and realised he reminded her of the Lakelands far too much. The typical muddy fawn, the thick muscles made for racing through sinking swamps. He even had the dark rings around his ears, not too many Lakelanders had that...

"Who are your parents?" She asked him, perhaps she knew them.

"Ah, my mother was called Bilga, and, ah, my father was, ah," he dragged it on, looking pained as he tried to find the words to talk about his father. Sarabi realised with a shock how old he was.

"No need to explain," Sarabi said gently. All Lakeland lions of his generation had the same father. Which meant that he was currently talking to his father's killer, though Sarabi was sure he didn't resent her for that, far from it actually.

"If you're mother is the same Bilga I am thinking of, that means I'm your grandmother." He didn't seem too surprised at all, though the other lions did double takes. Sarabi realised why this lion had been chosen to come

"Yeah, she told me that. And apparently one of her sisters lives out here as well."

Sarabi nodded. Not sure how she felt about meeting another grandchild.

"Fly ahead and tell Naanda that Magnar and Zareh are well." She told the steward who had landed upon her shoulder. The wood dove silently bowed and flew away as Naanda's father and mate perked up at the mention of the lioness.

"Come, you must be tired." She turned and listened to the sound of them following her through the grass. With the herds gone there was nothing to stop it from growing tall. It was lush and thick; many birds had already begun to weave their nests in it, quick to act on the new undisturbed delight.

Sarabi knew it would not last, the herds chased the rain, and with them gone it was only weeks until the Pridelands dried out. She looked over her shoulder to the powerful males that followed her, they were seasoned fighters and she was glad to have them back in the pride. They stood a good chance of bringing down some buffalo, or perhaps a hippo when the watering holes dried up. It had been a while since the pride had feed well for nights on end.

On their way to Priderock, now with Naanda included, who was happily walking between her father and mate, Sarabi trailed behind them all, inspecting them closer than she bothered originally.

Nala's father, Hodari, walked far ahead of the group. His steps bouncing with excitement to see his children for the first time, sending his large dark mane flying. He was the only lion who could match Mufasa in size, but despite his power he was a poor fighter. Nala resembled him in her defined face and powerful body, though she was vicious and competitive where her father was only patient. Nala's sister, Berta was more of her father, a quiet lionesses who saw more than anyone realised. Hodari was one of the best diplomats and peace talkers the pride had, and Mufasa had respected him greatly. They had been close friends, and Sarabi wondered how he would react to seeing what his past king had become. Several lionesses had advised her that it would be wise to let Mufasa's suffering end, Scar had counselled her that if he woke he would not be the same lion she had once loved. Sarabi wasn't sure if she could stand another person telling her to slice her mate's throat open.

Because she might just do it.

Sergeo was Sarafina's half-brother, younger than her by four years, he was twins with the lion who had died, Shalom. They had been identical, slim, a very light cream colour from their toes through to the tips of their manes with startling bright orange eyes. Sergeo walked close behind Hodari, his eyes focused on the ground. Sarabi had thought she had lost enough loved ones to known what it was like to mourn, but truth be told she wasn't sure if she was actually at the mourning stage with Simba and Mufasa yet. Denial was where she was right now. She sat and talked to Mufasa as if he could still hear, and every night she went and searching the Pridelands endlessly for Simba. She told the birds to keep their eyes peeled, and they said they would, though their words were full of pity.

Magnar and Zareh where the last two, Magnar was visibly one of the oldest lions of the pride, his body was more scars then hair, and old age had made him hideous with marks and wrinkles. But his one good eye sparkled brightly as he listened to his daughter talk. He was a legendary fighter amongst the pridelanders and even when she had been a part of the rebel lioness far out west in the ghost marshes, stories of his exploits had reached her, though he said when she asked that most tales were exaggerated beyond belief.

On the otherside of Naanda was her mate. He was similar to Scar in many ways, since they shared the same father. He had a golden coat and a mustardy mane, with an angular face on which kind green eyes peered from between dark lids. No one liked to talk about the relation, especially Scar, who despised any mention of his father. Mufasa had explained it to her quietly one night, some rouge lion who preyed on lionesses when they went out hunting alone. He is the reason why all rouge lions are chased off the Pridelands, no questions asked. Though luckily for Sarabi the rule didn't apply to lionesses, otherwise she wouldn't have gotten to stay and have never met Mufasa.

_He was thin and shy looking and had the golden coat of a Pridelander, so the king had welcomed him happily without the usual suspicion and checks done for the likes of cheetahs, jackals, or non-golden lions. However he had turned out to be a monster. Only a few lionesses were attacked, all of them where very young, some so young that they hadn't even had their first blood yet. They all thought themselves alone, and never spoke out because they were too ashamed and fearful. It was well known that the king though highly of the rouge lion, who had taken to helping in the buffalo hunts and had proved himself an excellent hunter. He could have one day become a part of the pride if he didn't make the mistake of raping the young princess. Uru didn't have to fear exile or punishment, she was the princess, and she was a headstrong lioness. He hadn't left a mark on the other lionesses, but Uru was older than them, and one of the best fighters. They say when she stumbled home, she was more blood than fur, there was no way she could have hidden the incident, not that such a thought had ever occurred to her. The whole pride was outraged, when she was recovered Uru had been at the forefront of tracing down the monster and tearing the golden stranger apart. Two lionesses had cubs to the monster lion, Zareh's mother was one of them. She had three cubs, one was killed at a young age by a vengeful pride member, who was exiled in punishment. The other left to find a life elsewhere, rumour was she went across the badlands and died trying to cross the sands. Zareh remained, too in love with Naanda to leave the hostility of the pride. The other lioness who grew with cub was the young princess Uru, who had only one child thanks to her royal blood. Scar hated his monster father so much that he refused to recognise his half brother, and the fear of the older pride members towards him made him angry and bitter. Even though Scar was the oldest child, Mufasa was born from love, and so was judged to be the rightful heir._

_It wasn't his fault, but he pays the price. Everyone feared what he would become so much that he turned bitter. He went out on his own to escape, he disappeared for days and avoided the pride. Soon the only lion he spent time with was Mufasa, and then when he was passed over for his younger brother, that changed too._

_She had cried when she heard of it. But Mufasa had told her not to pity him. What's done is done, I'm afraid. Our mother had ordered long ago that cubs never be told, and no hate held, so maybe with the next generation he couldn't be judged... what hurts me the most, Sarabi, is that mother loved him, but he forgets that. How tormented must a lion be to forget his own mother's love?_

Sarabi struggled to breathe, looking up in surprise she realised she had fallen behind and that her face was streaked with tears.

His failure to help Scar had been Mufasa's greatest regret. When she sat at the bottom of Priderock and watched Scar stand upon the king's ledge, she smiled. He used to shrink away from any lion who came near, his head would be turned away and his eyes never met her gaze. But as King he stood proud, the winds rustled his black mane – his mother's colour – and a handful of steward birds flew up to him and bowed when they landed to report. He had just finished greeting the party home, and was now standing upon the ledge looking over the kingdom thinking himself alone. A content smile was on his face, and for the first time he looked happy.

Suddenly he looked down and his eyes widened when he saw her watching him from the ground below. She smiled, and bowed her head in respect before moving off to climb the rock.

Perhaps in the end, Mufasa had managed to save his brother after all.

When she glanced back up at him, he looked like he was suffering from a heart attack. She chuckled.

* * *

_The King, atop his Throne:_

It was harder than Scar had thought to look Zareh in the eye. There had been a look of sadness on his face, like he wanted to say something (nice to finally talk to you? Glad to be acknowledged as a lion and not a particularly boring rock for the first time?) Scar had spent his life hating him, hell, he had spent his life hating all these lions. The old ones sometimes puffed up in offence a bit when they had to bow to him, but a majority were grown up enough and didn't care about what flowed in his veins. Royal blood, and a bit of monster, but that hardly mattered any more. He was Scar, the king's brother, the old queen's son, and though an angry recluse, he was now the rightful king...well, as far as they knew...

Scar growled to himself as he walked away from the pride. Those damn birds, how hard was it to find a lion cub? Simba couldn't have gone far and they were _eagles_ for godsake. They could spot a mouse amongst the grass while two miles up but struggled to find a cub amongst- what? Dust? There weren't any bloody lion cubs in the badlands, prince Simba would be sticking out like a hippo in a puddle. Maybe the cub had doubled back in the Pridelands quicker than he suspected, but still, he had the hyenas on the prowl for him. So even if he was back, he should be dead before he made it anywhere near priderock.

If they brought him to his feet, would he kill the poor child? Scar thought. The adrenaline was gone, along with the mad need to be king. He was the rightful king, and if they couldn't see that, then he would just have to make it happen himself... which he did, in the end.

_Perhaps... perhaps I could make him my heir? Though birds have been arriving lately from other prides with suggestions of political marriage. My own lioness... little cubs... it was tempting. Maybe Simba could be a spare, like I was all my life? I did like the boy, however stupid he proved himself to be time and time again._

With a shock, Scar remembered that Simba knew the truth of what happened. No. He could not be allowed to live, or even step foot back on the Pridelands. _Scar's_ Pridelands. Though Mufasa lived, he was a vegetable, death was inevitable for his idealistic brother and his pathetic ways.

The face of his brother as he fell flashed over his eyes, and Scar felt his stomach turn inside out. He hadn't... he hadn't... never been prepared for a look like that, heart breaking betrayal, shock, horror. He had imagined Mufasa to scream 'I knew it', or 'I was right to never trust you' just as Scar got his sweet deserts. The way he imagined it was terribly idealistic and fake next to the bloody reality. Maybe he was the stupid one in the end.

He looked down at his feet, shame he refused to think on waving over him. As he did, his eyes met with a very familiar lioness. Sarabi was sitting down in the subject area, where all the animals gathered to pay their respects. A few royals had come to swear their loyalty to him, the buffalo, elephant, hippo, hawks and parratos, even the crocodile lords and ladies had made their way to stand before him and pledge all their different pledges. Sometimes he wished they just wouldn't, though that would offend them greatly. Today it had been the lazy snake prince and the old gazelle queen, now only a scare few had yet to pledge to him. Zazu kept reminding him each morning_... those stupid ostriches are yet to come, apparently they are busy right now deciding on their new king and will send him as soon as possible, and of course, the gnu left early in respect of the circumstances. And also because the animals had been most uncivil towards them once news spread, jolly good I say. I believe that the gnu king and his entourage still reside in the Pridelands, and that they plan to pledge to you once feelings have settled down._

_Were those his precise words?_ Scar had asked Zazu in amusement. If anything, Scar felt like the feelings between the gnu and the lions were only intensifying with time. They were up to something, and Scar had a queasy feeling that it would end badly for them. Scar was not only the commander of a well trained lion army, he also had alligence with some other particularly strong fighters. Shenzi and her clan where working closer and closer with him, and though the lions seemed put out when they saw the hyenas about, their hatred for the gnu distracted them. And it was all very fine if Shenzi kept her hyenas behaving as civil as they had so far.

Sarabi smiled up at him, bringing Scar back to reality, and as she bowed her head weightless rain started to fall. The noise the water made against the giant rocks rang in his ears, but in reality it was softer than cat feet. Mufasa's face and Simba's face and Mufasa's eyes and Simba's scream and Mufasa's roar as he raced past...

Sarabi's soft smile as she bowed to him was now burned onto his eyes for the rest of his life.

Scar tried to shrug the regret off him, knowing it futile to wish things different. He had spent his life wishing, but it never changed a thing. As the rain grew heavier Scar sharpened his claws on the ledge's smooth rock in an attempt to put himself together before retiring for a nap in his own personal cave. He despised sleeping with the pride, and besides, the small cave off to the side made it easier for the dark raven to fly in unnoticed during the night and wake him.

Scar told a lioness in passing that he would be out walking the Pridelands for the night, and left without anyone else noticing – or caring enough to notice.

Scar ran for a long time, thanking god for the fitness he had gained going out to the hyena's Shadowlands every night. His paws were silent against the grass and dirt, and when he leaped over tiny gullies the only sound he made was the scattering of one or two pebbles, and even then, he was long gone by the time they started to rattle down the rocks. Scar could see the night animals long before they saw him, and he gave the quietly grazing gazelles and hunting owls a wide berth. The meeting was being held in the same place as always, under the smoky mountain. It had bubbling hot springs and was covered in soothing, smelling mud. Half rotten pond plants grew around its swampy pools, making Scar scrunch his nose and growl to himself as he gently tried to walk through the swamp without wetting his paws. The closer he got the louder the animals who had gathered became. Over the constant rumble and spew of the geysers and springs, crackles and bellows started to rise. Scar changed the way he walked to a more intimidating stalk, and held back the relief he felt when he saw a large group of hyenas sitting about the cave entrance. They crackled in greeting as he past, but Scar spared them nothing but a calculating green stare. They were his men more than the lions, but he didn't want anyone here to suspect that he had a deeper involvement with Shenzi's clan than what they appeared on the surface. They might feel threatened by that, which would be wise of them because he very much was spending his night dreaming of the day he would turn around and stab all the animals here in the back. But he had to wait, his carful plans would all come undone if he started to act on emotions. A lesson he has learned after the gorge, a memory that makes him sicker with every passing day.

Trotting through a passage that led deep underground, Scar past three of the largest buffalo bulls he had ever seen. They snorted and growled when they smelled him, but could not make him out from the shadows, and jumped in fright and bowed reluctantly when they recognised who he was. Horns as thick as he was hung down at eye level, and Scar was loath to admit that they were more intimidating when they bowed than when they were growling. He felt like they were seconds away from charging and crushing him and all his bones against the rocks that towered behind him. He knew what that felt like, and didn't want to suffer it again.

_This must be his royal guard._ Scar realised. A lot of the lords and cheifs of the prey species had royal guards to protect them, though why an animal as fat as him would need so many was beyond Scar. Any self respecting predator would cringe at the thought of eating him, he would be all blubber and diabetes.

"Ah, _King_ Scar, took your time," said animal sneered when Scar entered the large cavern. Scar opted for a glare and icy silence as he stalked towards the gathering. Though he was loath to do it, Scar did as he had done for months now; forcing a cunning smile full of teeth at the animals gathered about, he greeted them as they had instructed him to.

"Strong King, Mischief King, Queen of Blades," Scar said, unable to resist showing off, he jumped gracefully up to a higher ledge and lay down upon the heated stone. The Strong King frowned and Scar could tell a brutish taunt was forming in his head. He patiently waited for the thick animal to say what he needed to,

"Fake King," he laughed, earning him a glare from the Queen of Blades. He promptly feel quiet, and glared at his hooves. The Queen of Blades came up to his gnarly knees - and if you included her fragile horns - just a bit above them, and it humoured Scar immensely to see the authority she had.

"Scar I'm impressed," she began, her feeble voice echoing around the cave. "Mufasa and Simba gone, and in such a tragic accident no less, you did well." She cocked her head to the side and narrowed her milky eyes, Scar sucked a breath in and prepared himself to dance once again around flattery and lies. _Time to be as humble as a dung beetle, _Scar told himself.

"But now you are King of the Pridelands, I find it hard to believe that the thought of betraying our deal as not crossed your mind. After all, we promised you the title of Lion King, and now you have found yourself ruler on your own cunning."

"It has not crossed my mind in the way that you assume, my lady, I think in big pictures and the big picture here is that the pride dose not accept me, and that damn baboon never leaves Mufasa's side, despite every bone in his body being broken his health improves," Scar look a deep breath before he revealed the next part, "... and Simba still lives."

The two kings and the one queen present gasped. The word was that Mufasa slept indefinitely for his wounds were too much, and the much loved cub was tragically killed. This was news to them, and he could tell they were displeased about such critical truths being withheld for so long.

"What if we disposed of the baboon?" the Strong King suggested, but the Queen of Blades shook her tiny head as soon as it left his mouth.

"Too suspicious, as well as the fact that Rafiki is far too irreplaceable for my liking. I have my ravens searching far and wide for another spirit talker, but far too many were hunted down back during the Great Suspicion. Poisoning the old king would be best." She frowns a daintily little frown before admitting, "my ravens have told me of a spirit talking out in the badlands, a kudu of some sort. But he has turned down all propositions by my ravens. Still, he is nowhere near as talented as the old baboon, and possesses no rainbow face."

The Mighty Brute scoffed in distaste, "only the birth of a true king can cause a rainbow face to come into this world." He was incredibly sour, and Scar had to work to keep all amusement from his face. "The old baboon was born alongside the true king, nearly forty years ago, and that wise woman who advises the Lord of Gnu, she was born near thirty years ago. She's on the way out, I tell you."

"There is a rainbow face advising the gnu?" The Queen of Blades asked in exasperation. Her voice was venom and her guards had gotten to their feet when they noticed her anger. She must have been working her ravens to the bones to find some far flung magic man. To hear there was one hiding about in the Pridelands must annoy her.

_The animals fight amongst themselves,_ Scar thought to himself with satisfaction. Even though he had allied himself with these rebels - working towards the cause of the 'four rulers of the Pridelands', as they laughably called themselves – Scar couldn't wait till the day he tears them down after they had foolishly worked to build him up, all on promises of their own kingdoms. Like those fabled 'old ways' they keep referring too. _Sure there was the old ways, but they it chaos before the lions came_, Scar growled in his own head, _it's called the Pridelands for god sake, as if he would ever carve it up for greedy beasts_. The two lords and the lady talk so easily of what they deserve. Their own lands, own watering holes, for the lions to protect them and only eat the naturally dead, for the herds to go somewhere else and stop eating their grass. Scar peels his lips back in distaste whenever he thinks on their demands. He may not be a true king, or even a good king, but he can see the chaos that they will create. There is a natural order for a reason, a food chain for a reason, the herds have passed through the Pridelands since before time for a reason. Scar looks at the rebels in turn. The mighty king, covered in mud from a good wallow. If size mattered the elephant would be king. The Mischeif king, silent and scratching at his fur in thought, if intelligence mattered, than the elephant would be king. Last he looked at the Queen of Blades, if family mattered than the goddamn elephant would be king. Scar seethed inside and watched the rebels talk, every treason that passes their lips remembered and counted.

_Guess what? The elephant is not the king, the elephant is one of the lions oldest and loyalist supporters. They do not ask for lordships, they do not ask for laws to be made to advantage them. The elephants go where they want and cared little for politics, but when the rains come and the cub is born, they come from across the continent, always on time, like they knew before even the ancestors. And they would line up and touch the cub all over with their trunks and chant in those strange ancient voices._

The thought made Scar's eyes burn. He had also respected the elephants immensely.

When he was newborn, no one came to his ceremony. No one, expect the elephants. His mother said that some of the oldest animals she had ever seen in her life came to bless him.

"How can we trust you, now that you have what you want, and we are no longer needed to give it to you?" The Mischief King asked, one of the few times he bothered to speak up instead of just observe. Scar sighed and rolled his sounders in an attempt to relax before relieving a brilliantly phrased piece that he had been rehearsing all day.

"Today the lions returned from their support mission out in the Lakelands," the mischief king's smile widens revealing his sharp incisors, he knew, he just wanted to hear it again. In an indifferent drawl Scar says, "they are respectful and sorrowful towards me, but the despise that the lionesses harbour will surely rub off on them quickly. I trust none of my pride and they in turn distrust me, if not then why on earth would I still be relying on hyenas as my soldiers? Sarabi, the queen, she mistrust me most and holds secret meetings. My thinking is that our alliance is far from compromised, I would say that it's strengthened with my new... tentative status." He was lying through his teeth. In fact Scar feared that Sarabi was becoming one of his loyalist supporters.

"Very good," the Queen of Blades says, as if Scar had just passed a test. "Now about this Simba problem,"

"He was chased out into the badlands, and he was injured, I doubt he could survive-"

"Doubt is not good enough," the Mighty King interrupts, "we need to know."

Scar's teeth grinded. Disrespectful greedy beasts... he hopes Simba would take his father's words and ran as far as he could. Create a new life somewhere else. Hopefully safe across the sands.

"My ravens will search, that's all we really can do right now. If he ever tries to return, I'm sure we can slander him enough with rumours that no animals will trust him. I trust the strength of your herds would be enough to finish him?" The Queen asked the mighty brute, who snorted and chuffed in superiority. "We don't want Scar sending any of the pride out to chase him away, they would recognise him. And if he comes back anywhere near as grown as Mufasa then hyenas would not suffice.

The mention of Mufasa sent chills down Scar's spine. He could feel the animals watching him from the corner of their eyes, wondering if he will object. Mufasa was a true lion, strong and fearsome. What is he? Bones and a nasty glare, not much else. Ever since they dragged him muddy and broken to lay at their feet and hear their plans, there has been no respect for him. A pawn. In a natural lion instinct that he couldn't suppress, his face crinkled up into a snarl and he growled low and long through clenched teeth. The Queen of Blades, though tiny, sent him a warning glare and tossed her horned head.

"Please Scar none of that now."

Disrespectful greed bastards...

"Now about the gnu..."

His ribs still ached from when their henchmen had slammed him into the river bank. An apology would be nice. But he never got one.

* * *

_Someone Strong and Loyal, in a Hidden Camp:_

The world was darker than tar, and just as thick. Ever since the news of the stampede hit the lands I hadn't slept. Wise woman had urged me to sleep, but that was impossible. Unless wise woman volunteered to stand guard in my place... but even if she did, I wouldn't let her. She is quite old.

For as long as it took. I would do my job, and not a single complaint would pass my lips.

When wise woman visited early in the night to check on the baby, she had warned me that today would be the final day. She told me to be on high alert (but I've been on high alert for eight sunrises now). She said that it was horrible timing, and the bludging lady had agreed. The lord was making plans, and the court was to move at first light. The lady had gone to find her lord after that, and wherever she waddled I go too. I had never seen the Lord of Gnu up close before, a funny thing considering I had been the personal guard of his lady and unborn foal for months now. He was one of the most impressive gnu I had ever seen, a feat considering it was a night with no moon to speak of. They say to see his true splendid you need to look upon him as the sun rises across the grasses, when the night's fog steams away and your fur is wet with dew. They say his face was white, and his eyes shocking blue, with an orange mane and black strips on a lush dark purple coat. In the dark he looked normal, but I was a warrior and I knew. His muscles were thick, and his words struck as sure as I imagined his hooves did. The lady begged for time, but the lord said he had delayed enough. Every night, for days now, the wise women had said it was time, and nothing, every night. When will he see his child? She was so big and carried so low that everyone talked of a great, strong son.

The lady had held her head high, and seemed a wit away from spitting in her mate's face. The lord sighed heavily and gave up on the fight. He said he had advisors to meet, and ordered her to get rest before they began to move.

She spun on her hooves furiously, or as well as she could, considering she was almost a wide as she was long these day. I made to follow, but the lord asked me to stay a second.

_Protect her._ He had said.

_With my life._

_The wise woman was right to call on you. I had been against it in the beginning, I wasn't used to the idea of a woman guard, but you are strong and loyal - smart too - something I don't see often. I wanted to tell you, to make sure you have no doubts about it, that you have the most important job tonight, and of all the nights. Protect the child. You are not a guard of the herd, or of the court, or of me or the lady, you are my child's guard. He is the future for gnu. Wise woman sees my death in her dreams, and it is drawing close. When I am gone he will be the last gnu alive with the king's blood. He must survive, otherwise life will become unbalanced. Do you understand?_

I was stunned. I thought that the power of King's Blood was simply legend, but here was the Lord of Gnu, pleading me to see his child out of the Pridelands alive.

_I will protect the young lord with my life. _I meant it, with all my heart. The Lord of Gnu had snuffled in approval, before he shifted his hooves and brought his head closer to mine, so I could hear his whispers.

_If this meeting with the lion's goes as I expect it to go, than I would recommend going back to the old ways._

_The... old ways?_ He couldn't possibly mean...

_You will protect the young _king _with your life._

He left before I could form a sentence. I had thought the old ways were legend just like the King's Blood, and now the Lord of Gnu speaks true of it as well. I don't know what shocked me more, the fact that the Lord – king now I supposed - expected to be dead by tomorrow, or that the bed time stories were true.

I never got to see him in first light, with dew drops between the fur, because by the time the sun rose he had been ripped apart by lions.

The night had been so hectic I can't remember much. But I will always recall, with perfect clarity, how it had been absolutely silent before the roars and the bellows began, and how the lion king had roared _fool _and the true king had pulled himself to his full height before roaring back.

_The gnu will not bow to the lion any more._

He died with ten lionesses ripping into him. But his knees remained locked, and his head held high, even though some young lionesses had bitten into his neck and was hanging from it, drenched red in the king's blood.

I had turned to the lady and whispered that it was time to go. She did not understand what the noises meant as well as me, and was confused. She was not a warrior, her hearing was not tuned enough to catch the king's last law. She was crying as I lead her away and asking me hysterical questions. She wanted to go back, my mate, oh god my lord, what happened, what happened, tell me, tell me! It will be safer with the soldiers; we should go back for the soldiers.

I remember her collapsing after a few miles of running. She had been complaining of pains, but I told her it was not safe yet. She had spread out on her side, and huffed and screaming. I told her to be quiet. She cried and asked me to tell her the truth, was the lord dead, where they going to die, what had happened?

The Lord disowned his king. I told her, as I listening to the sounds of the grass around us with painful focus. A lion made hardly any noise when they pasted through the grass, but I was trained to recognise the soft slicing sound of their passing. If they came while the lady laboured, I would have to fight they off, one, two, ten, twenty? I would fight them, I would kill them.

And the Lord declared with his dying breath that the gnu would not bow to the lion any more.

Oh god, what does that mean? What has he done?

It means your child is a king. And you are now a Queen.

She had laughed then, finding it funny. Only to gnu looney enough to abandon the lions, for what? A calf and a non-royal queen. Gnu were not known for their loyalty, they were known for they acute instinct for survival, at all costs. And survival lay with the lions.

Mufasa's queen was non royal, but the animals love her, they follow her.

Ha! Look at you, comparing me to that lionesse. She is beautiful and fearsome, she killed her way to the top where she came from, I've heard. Mufasa was the only lion brave enough to make a mate of her. What am I? A small grey gnu.

The blood of the birth started to smell strong, but the gods were on their side, because the wind blew it in the opposite direction.

The lady started screaming when the hooves started to emerge. I told her to be quiet, and she snapped at me that she was giving fucking birth here.

I told her, your mate has just committed mutiny against the lion king. He has killed your mate, he has killed your soldiers, he has killed the generals and the advisors. He will be all too happy to kill you and your child, it will be the ultimate show of strength. The gnu was the most powerful force in the known world, but for him to say that he dissimilated the entire court in one night would scare even the bull headed buffalo into generations of servitude. There was a very real possibility that we were all that was left.

The animals followed Uru because she saved them from the drought, they followed Mufasa because he maintained a fair land, but Scar? His power had come from Sarabi and the intimidating force of the Priderock. Now he had the massacre of the gnu. He had their fear. Soon animals would be racing to turn them in, fearful that if they did not Scar would treat them the same as he did the traitor gnus.

The calf slid out, and the lady groaned through clenched teeth. When she twisted to get a look at her child, she suddenly jerked and nearly kicked her own newborn. She was breathing heavy, and rapidly, her eyes were unfocused and it was like she didn't even realise I was there anymore. The child kicked itself out of its sack, and got himself to his knees. Just as he was easing himself up, the lady jerked again, and this time she did in fact kick her child.

My lady!

The calf started to scream in panic, and I tried to lick his face to calm him down as I shielded him with my body in case she kicked out again. He used my head to lean against as he tried to stand again. The lady bellowed even louder than before, and I was half way through planning how to run with the child if the lions came, when another calf emerged and fell to the ground.

I was shocked, I had never seen twins before. This time the lady did not twist to see her, she just lay down and cried.

Get up my lady, your children have to nurse. She shrugged me off and told me to just leave her die. I said that would mean that her children would surely die. I did not think she was dying, but when she got to her feet I realised just how fast blood was oozing from her. The second calf was already on its feet, and was nudging at me just like its brother was.

No, no, you're mother is that one. I pushed them against their mother, and they quickly started to drink from her. She turned to look at them, and gasped at the sight.

The sun started to rise, and she had turned to me and looked me dead in the eye.

"Save them,"

"With every ounce of me, my lady." She weakly smiled, and then collapsed back into the blood in the grass. Her calves screamed in surprise, and I watched as she looked up at them with her last bit of strength.

"They'll be just like him one day, just as strong and handsome."

They were still sticky and dark with birth, but I said nothing as she finally died.

I called to the calves, hoping they would follow me, but instead they lay down beside their mother in her blood. I put my head down and pushed them along, they screaming at me, but I pushed them again and again, until soon they were trotting in front of me. Once their mother was out of sight, they clung to my sides like ticks, and I was happy for that.

The massive amounts of blood in the air would attract all the predators of the Pridelands, and there were a lot of hungry mouths out there after the herds had moved on. Newborn calves were a favourite dish for many, and I needed them far away and hidden as soon as possible. A cheetah had given us a sly look a mile into our journey, but I screamed at her so loud she jumped and sprinted away. I don't think she expected me to see her hidden amongst the rocks, but I was good at my job.

The calves started to try to suckle off me, but I told them I was not their mother. When we catch up to the herds, there will be cows willing to nurse them. I don't think they understood me though.

When the sun was sitting on the plains, and the sky was started to blend from orange to blue, I chose to rest the newborns amongst some thick grass that grew in the shade of rocks not even a hundredth the size of the lion's rocky throne. The calves were tired and feel asleep underneath me, I licked the blood smells of them, and ripped up grass to drop over them. Late in the morning two hyenas past by, but the newborns were hidden well by then, and all they saw was me. I was tall and strong, my horns were sharp and my eyes keenly traced them.

"Looky here, a saviour of last night!" One had teased across the distance between us.

I stepped clear of the newborns before pawing at the ground and creating a cloud of dust around me. When they crackled and moved to come my way, I charged at them with my horns down. Even though we were half a league apart, they scattered and started to run off.

"Feisty!"

"A little traumatised are we?" They laughed as they ran off. I made sure to draw myself to my full height and paw at the ground again. Only when they were specks did I turn my back on them and nudge the newborns awake.

We had to continue moving, the hyena knew where I was now, and from what they said, they knew of what happened last night. Interesting that Scar was sympathetic to the hyenas, considering how hateful his brother had been of the animals. The calves mewled for milk when they woke, I had taken to lightly hitting them when they were noisy. It was hard to do, but one day our lives will depend on them staying quiet. I had promised to their parents to kept they safe, no matter the cost.

The day was starting to heat up, and I knew the calves were suffering. But I walked on, and when they started to slow I pushed them on. When that didn't work I bite them.

I hid them under some thorn bushes, and let them sleep until night fell. I had not slept in a long time, and sometimes when I stood guard of them I would blink and wake up with the sun slightly lower down in the sky. I took to walking guard around and around the bushes after that. We needed to catch up to the herds as soon as possible, so that the calves could feed. But the more I thought about it the more I realised it was impossible. I needed another plan.

During dusk the buffalo started to wake up and head across the grass to the mud pools. I woke the newborns, and ran to meet them. Buffalo were stubborn, but I hoped they would understand. However the idea of one of his cows nursing the newborns sent the bull into a frenzy, and I was hard press to protect the newborns as he got more and more aggressive. I tried to tell them to go back to the thorns, but they instead hid underneath me and between my legs. To my horror he charged me, and my horns locked with his. I felt the legendary strength of the buffalo personally, and it was a terrifying experience. No matter what, I could not let him move me, so I dug in my hooves and locked my head, and used all the tactics I knew to shake him. Just as I was starting to slip and buckle, a voice I knew very well cried out.

"Stop now, old bull!" she shouted, racing up and shaking her rainbow face. The beads that hung from her slight horns rattled together.

"She insulted my herd, spirit talker" the bull hissed, "she wants to attach her leeches to my cows! Take milk away from my calves for some filthy king killers." He was furious, and his family shuffled at a safe distance, the calves tucked in the centre of the herd as they eyed me suspiciously.

When animals see rainbow faces, they don't see the species. Rainbow faces are considered a part of all species, as much buffalo as they were bird or lion, or the gnu that she resembled. I was shocked at how blind the old bull was to the fact he insulted the gnu, but couldn't recognise the rainbow face in front of him as a gnu herself. His herd started to murmur as things cooled down.

_What sort of gnu can stand up to the bull? _

_A female gnu? _

_How did she? _

I felt smug that he would have to suffer a long process of proving his strength to his herd all over again after this.

"That's enough, I will take her away, move on now old bull," The bull snorted and did so, every so often turning to glare back at me. I ignored him and bent down to check on the calves.

"Wise woman I am so glad to see you," She ignored me, looking at the calves huddled underneath me with excitement.

"Which is the child?" She asked me, her eyes looking between them with growing sadness.

"Both," I could see in her eyes that she had figured that out, but was in denial. Something about them was not what she wanted.

"Both?" She studied them as they walked out to investigate her. When they tried to see if she had milk she kneed them away quickly. She seemed very embarrassed about being touched there. I found that strange, there was nothing to be embarrassed about, and if anyone was to be ashamed it should be me. I was the one who could not have children.

"I need a cow to nurse them," I told her "they have had nothing except their mother's first milk at sunrise."

"Where is the queen?"

"Dead, the birth was quick but too traumatic." The wise woman sighed and I felt grief hit me for the first time since the death. I had been too focused listening to the grass and keeping the children alive to let myself think on her death. I had been by her side for months, she had become a close friend to me. Though she treated me like a male as many did, I did not despise her like I did others for it. She had been kind to me, and talked easily with me about whatever was on her mind. Usually it was names for her unborn son.

"These are both daughters," wise woman stated.

"Yes?" That was obvious, why had she said it? Was it because everyone had been expecting a big son, not too smaller than usual girls? I suppose it was a rather drastic change.

"I had thought, oh no matter, but this changes everything. Girl, you have done well to protect the calves like you have. I thought for sure I was the only one to survive. There were so many lions, and so many hyenas too! The Pridelands crawled with them all night. I couldn't see the grass from the beast. Scar had me spared under the condition that I become his spirit talker, pha! As if I would serve that tyrant. I ran away first chance I got, back then I had still believed..." She was drifting off in her thoughts. One of the calves tripped over and fell down, I decided to bring her back to what was important right now.

"The children need a cow-"

"No they don't, you need a plant."

" What?" That was not the response I had been expecting.

"More specifically, a grass with purple leaves and white roots. It's the roots we need. I know some not too far from here, if we hurry you should have milk to feed them with by the next sunrise. I don't want them to wait any longer than that."

"Me? But I am barren."

"Doesn't mean some old herb magic can't trick your tits into doing their job for once." She chuckled to herself as she trotted away, her bony hips sticking out of old skin. I followed quickly, and so did the newborns.

"Well the King and Queen had decided on Kweil for a name, but I think it inappropriate now that all my visions were wrong."

"What do you mean wrong, our lord died tonight just as you predicted."

"Oh yes, that was right, sadly, but these other ones I've been having, I'm afraid I was misguided about them due to my own hopes. Now my hopes are gone, and so I see the message clear and proper now."

I found that very sad.

"The spirits said a true king was on the way. I believed it was the new son, all the signs pointed towards it. I lead the king to believe so too. I'm afraid this whole massacre is on my head."

"It could still be one of the children," Did a true king have to be a boy? The legend of a true king was just as loved as that of the king's blood and old ways. My head started to get dizzy as I thought about it. All the legends true. Was magic true as well? The wise woman had just mentioned it, she said she could make me – _me _– produce milk. If that wasn't magic I didn't know what was.

"No, the spirits would have spoken of a true queen, the natures are very distinctive, I would have noticed."

"Perhaps a very masculine queen?" Perhaps a female like me? I had met a few similar to me, I looked down on the two calves and wondered which one could be this so called 'true king'.

"No no, it doesn't work like that. I talked to that baboon while I was prisoner; he sensed the same as me, though his interpretations were much clearer right from the beginning. We noticed different things during the meteor showers, and together I think we've made quite a solid discovery."

"What, a discovery? Of what?"

"We will take the daughters across the Badlands, the true king is said to be from a mountain peak surrounded by jungle. Rafiki sensed warthog, I sensed meerkat. We're thinking he might be something in between."

"In between a warthog and a meerkat? What on earth could that be?"

"I'm working on it."


	4. Till We Find Out Place

Till We Find Our Place

_The Cub, East of Hell's Backbone, en route for the Bone Forest:_

Simba rested with his head on his paws and watched Upweke nibble at leaves. The sun had only just come up and the world was still cold. A chill sliced through his coat and shivers ran along his bones.

Upweke eats differently. It wasn't like the chomp and tear of the zebra and unstoppable ravaging of the gnu. Simba watched how the big antelope ate threw one blurry eye. His lips fluttered over tiny shoots, and he nibbled gently in delicate silence. With his eyes closed Simba noticed the difference clearly, and it made his heart ache. He remembers the noise of the herds eating, it was like a constant snarl moving over the plains all day and night.

As Simba lay waiting for the new light to warm him, he imagine himself back home, on top of Pride Rock with Nala stretched out beside him, their purrs in rhythm as they dozed. Just as he was slipping away into light sleep, Upweke reared up on his hind legs and stretched for the highest branch. Dew that had pooled on the underside of the leaves shook and came down in a shower. One particular droplet landed heavy as stone between Simba's shoulder blades. Instantaneous he was awake again, and the old, warm dream was shattered and he was back in the frigid wastelands, small sharp rocks cutting him where he lay. All the hair along Simba's spine stood painfully on end, and he had to twisted around and rasp it flat to get it back down. He glared at Upweke, but the overgrown goat just looked down at him like he was an interesting cog of dirt, all the while munching on the nubby leaves from the grey tree. It was stunted and twisted from droughts gone on unnaturally long, Simba wondered how it was still alive.

Upweke said he could tell how many droughts it had suffered. Simba thought him mad, but he knew Rafiki could understand the trees; so maybe Upweke was spirit talker like him? Admittedly a bad one, in Simba's opinion. The Kudu said anyone could read, if they just knew what to look for.

"Can you teach me then?" Simba had asked, knowing he could prove Upweke wrong. If he was anything, it was unteachable and untalented. Upweke seemed to know that already, and sounded one of those rude snorts than meant he was trying to laugh but didn't have enough of a soul to complete it. Upweke's eyes darted across the horizon, searching for words to say while avoiding looking at Simba. Something he had learned to do early on when dealing with the young lion. If he looked down he would see two red eyes glaring up at him, steady and eerie as the cub waited for a response.

Upweke thinks that predators don't realise how creepy they are to the other animals. How their eyes are close together at the front of their heads, instead of on the sides... how they yawned without consideration of their companions of gentler natures, who get scared stiff with the display of teeth and the black void.

"You are lion, why do you care for silly things like this?"

Simba couldn't believe the complete flip his life had taken. Just a moon change ago Rafiki had told him to sit and not move a muscle from sunrise to sunset, and just watch the ants. Ants! For a whole day! Guess what Rafiki? Of course he was going to sneak away, because the ants ran in their lines, back and forth, the exact same thing, again and again... _all day. _Back then he had prayed to the ancestors every night – _please please please, no more, I can't handle watching ants and counting how long it takes for the sun to set and learning the gazelle's sound from the impala's. They're practically the same animal, there is literally no difference. I just want to be a lion. Like those lions out fighting in the lakelands. So cool! Dad's the best king ever, they don't need me. I'll become the strongest fighter and go out on amazing missions. I'll be the loyalist sworn lion and protect the Pridelands from the hyenas._

And now here he was... finally a normal lion. Asking how to read bark. To make it even worse, yesterday he had asked Upweke were all the ants were. He hadn't seen any, and they had crossed a lot of ground that day. It had struck him as odd.

_What? Ants? I did not think lions noticed such things..._

He wished he could just forget it all. He wished he could just lay here in the growing morn and be happy, instead of being torn apart with guilt of things he can never hope to change.

Most of the dew that had fallen onto sand had sunk into the grains by now, leaving only dark patches where they had been, but some now grouped together on the rocks. It was a measly amount, in no way fit for Simba no matter how small of a lion he was. But it was the perfect amount for the tiny lizard that sunbathed by Simba's side. Originally he would have been quite a striking guy, but in his old age his scales had dulled and almost lost their colour completely.

"Vieil." Simba said as he prodded his paw at the lizard. The ancient reptile stirred and cleared his throat, which made only a slither of audible noise. "You should drink while there is water around." Simba told him.

He grunted and started to haul his body through the sand. Gently, as Simba had done yesterday, he picked Vieil up with his teeth and shifted him next to the tiny dew pool. He dipped his nose into it and licked at the surface.

"Little lion," he whispered, "let me say something that I've be wanting to tell you." One eye opened before closing again, and Simba saw that it was milky and weeping. "A leader that does not take advice, is no longer a leader, and I have to say..." he stopped, and coughed and said "life is full of questions, and idiots are full of answers," before laughing a horrifyingly croaky laugh and lapsing back into sleep. Simba sat and watched him for a long time, listening to the tiny heart beat weakly and praying it stayed that way. After a while the sun started to strengthen, and on cue Upweke grew restless.

"The lizard drifts, I'm afraid he will not make it home," Upweke grumbled from his place on the other side of the tree. "We must start moving."

His eyes felt hot and swollen as he watched the lizard lay alone amongst the rocks. He had been lively three days ago, back when Sili had brought him over. He talked loudly and with a twinkle, and didn't sit still for long.

Crazy grandpa lizard, or old Vieil he was called, and he told them that his death was upon him. An animal of his age knew these sorts of things. And how he wished to die surrounded by family, a feat he could not achieve alone. He appreciated Sili's healing efforts, but when the white eagle set her sights, it was stupid to fight her. _Holy angle comes, to grant my wish of touching the clouds!_ He had shouted things of that effect during the start of the journey and laughed like it was the greatest joke in the world.

For a small lizard like him the journey was unthinkably far, but he knew the talk of how Upweke was known to have crossed the wastelands in under a week. _Faster than an eagle, they say of you? That true mister Scar Face? _And he was in awe of Simba and loved to talk to him about '_what it is like being a lion' _and_ 'do you feel fear? What do you feel when you think about tomorrow?'_

Simba understood quickly why he was known as crazy grandpa lizard. He was curiously smart about the most peculiar things.

For the first day he had ridden amongst the thick fur between Upweke's shoulder blades, but he was cramped and exhausted from holding on by the time they stopped to sleep midday. He then proposed that he could ride in the cub's mouth.

At first it felt weird; he was scaly and tasted like sand and fleas. Simba kept his mouth wide open, and after awhile his jaw hurt and he wore out quickly. Simba learned that if he stretched his jaw just so, he could rest his teeth together in an unusual way that left space for old Vieil's head and tail.

Old Vieil disliked the feel of Simba's tongue as much as Simba disliked the feel of him, so they were both extremely happy when old Vieil worked out the position of lying across his teeth and staying above Simba's spiny tongue.

"I bet no animal has seen the spines of a lion's tongue and lived to tell about it!" And he laughed like it was the biggest joke in the world. "Look at me, carried by a king!"

The animals tendency to called all lion's kings, even the lionesses, never failed to make Simba pause. Sometimes it made him sad, at the memory of his family, or angry, at the memory of his family. Sometimes he forgets, and thinks that they have figured out who he is, or recognised him. And he'll freeze for a millisecond and his eyes would dilate.

That was the reaction he had while old Vieil lay amongst his teeth. And the lizard noticed instantly. He was old and wise, and curiously smart.

"Sorry young cub, didn't mean to scare you there." He apologised before rattling off a new tale of when he and his friend Jay walked for three moons straight, but when they turned around they could still see their home tree.

Simba stubbornly refused to look at Upweke, knowing that the Kudu would be peering at him with intense thought. Upweke was always trying to figure him out, it got annoying at times, with how he would just _study_ him like he was the world's most unsolvable riddle.

"Say Scar Face, what sort of animal are you. I'm old but I've never seen one like you. You must be far from home."

Upweke thought hard about his response. Simba could feel it from the small silence before he answered, and the deliberate way he pronounced the sounds he always struggled with.

"They call us Kudu, and they are two of us. I'm of the Mkubwa kind. We're bigger, and our colour is most distinct."

_And your beards are longer_, Simba thought. He would have said it but for the small problem of a lizard in his jaws.

"We live in herds, ten to forty usually, and though the gnu is more numerous, and the Impala faster, our species is considered the greatest of the antelope for our beauty as well as our strength. Most of us live in the lands east of here, which is where I came from, but a few big families live in the South and we are greatly respected there."

"They're crazy in the south," old Vieil remarked. Simba remembers Zazu talking about it, and saying something similar, a memory that feels so far removed.

"Watch what you say old lizard, little lion there is from the south." Upweke cautioned the crazy old lizard.

"Well no wonder he left and ended up here, in this shit hole."

"This is your home, isn't it? Don't you take any pride in it?"

"Yeah, but I can still tell shit from the mud. Never mind I've never seen that much mud in my life." After which, of course, he proceeded to laugh like it was the biggest joke in the world.

As the sun got higher and the air heated up, Upweke lead them into the shade of some leaning rocks, and they collapsed into the sand. Simba gently lowered old Vieil onto the ground, then yawned and stretched and baby-roared without thinking, from happiness from having his mouth back. It was the first time he had baby-roared since the gorge. When he turned back around, half way through licking his nose, he noticed that Upweke had straightened, and that old Vieil was considering from the corner of his one good eye. Simba ignored them as he went about digging into the sand to get at the colder ground underneath. Sleep came to him quickly, understandable when you considered that on top of being a small child, he had been walking all day and night.

When he woke up the shadows were long and the air was sweeter. Upweke shook himself, making a racket of noise to Simba's highly tuned ears. Countless flies took off in panic before landing back down on the kudu. Simba had flies crawling over him as well, they liked to sit around his lips and lick at his nose, but luckily they did not bite into him as they had when he was alone and starving, so many life times ago. Sometimes one would crawl in as he breathed and he would spend a few seconds crazily trying to sneeze it out. It was disgusting.

"How do you stand the flies?" Simba asked Upweke while looking at him through one eye. The other one was closed because of the amount of flies buzzing around his face.

"They are thirsty, and look for something to drink, just as we do. They are small, so anything would do for them. Wee, puss, snot, drool, even the surface of your eyes." Upweke turned to him and smirked.

"Ew," Simba grumbled. Evil goat. Evil flies.

"If you fight them, you will die, and they will win. Know what battles to fight little lion, wasting energy can be deadly out here. But I'm sure you know that."

Upweke had told him that he wanted to get to the First Tree before morning. The old friend they were on the way to visit could not afford to wait long. She had a big family to feed. Simba scooped Vieil back into his mouth, and the lizard situated himself so that his narrow head hung out one side of his mouth, and his butterfly thin tail stretched out the other side. He lay across Simba's teeth, and the cub was so careful to not jostle him as they jogged that he looked similar to a crocodile mother carrying her hatchling down to the river.

The smooth but hustling running pace they struck was a travelling run for Upweke, but for Simba it was more like running for his life as he tried to keep up to the large steps that the antelope effortless took.

The first time Upweke had started to run, Simba had assumed something was wrong. Had Upweke noticed a threat and was trying to get them out of danger? He had run as quietly as he could and for as long as he could, but eventually he couldn't. It felt like a long time ago, that memory, but was in fact quite recent.

_You were keeping up, I couldn't hear any labour in your breath, your feet never dragged, I thought you were fine. Then you collapse on me! Why? Strange cub, I did not realise how tiny and weak you are._

Upweke had been less hostile to him after that. Now Simba could manage double the distance, but still Upweke said it was a sad state. Newborn foals could out run him.

Simba didn't doubt it, but a newborn foal had longer legs than him, and they hadn't just recovered from a near death experience.

_Trying to defend yourself against a newborn? I never believed I would see the mighty lion fall so low._

It was so unfair. Antelope were born to run, the grand ancestor forged them to run. But when he said that Upweke had laughed for - what Simba suspected - was the first time in his life.

_Yes and you were forged to catch us, but I don't think you will be eating tonight, or any other night._

_But I'm only little, at this age my pride woul- _the thought of his family had gorged Simba's heart out, back then, when it was still raw and bleeding, and anything else he tried to say couldn't make it past the lump in his throat. Upweke recognised that the conversation had touched on a sorry topic, and said no more.

There are many different stages that Simba goes through while running. The lungs get cold, then the muscles burn before becoming numb. Even his tail tires from swirling about with ever leap. Keeping his balance had been easy in the soft play areas as a cub, but going from sand to grit to hard grass, over roots and rocks, all while shadowing a kudu who changes his path spastically. It was a hard task to complete.

Sometimes Simba thinks that Upweke does not realise how young he really is. Once Simba reaches the numb stage, it is hard to keep his body moving at the same speed with the same strength. Then there was the next wall, which Simba was not keen to cross. It was hard to pant properly with old Vieil in his mouth, jamming himself between the spaces of his teeth as he tries to not be flung out. As he started to lag behind, Upweke slowed as well. They come to a walk and the Kudu peered at the wobbly Simba with curiosity. Often Upweke needs to stop completely and let Simba lie down and pant.

"You're doing a lot better."

Simba didn't expect the praise, his numb body warmed up in pride at the compliment. When he looked up at the kudu in surprise, Upweke was back to studying the horizon with intensity.

"Let's keep going." Simba nodded slightly and follows close to Upweke's hooves. For the rest of the evening old Vieil filled the silence with talk of how it felt with Simba's hot breath breathing on him, and how the on and off again running jostled his old bones horribly.

When they walked through the cold night, old Vieil said only one thing.

"Now you're breath keeps me nice and warm."

And then he had laughed like it was the biggest joke in the world.

Now it was morning, and old Vieil was not moving at all. He was quite. Even his breathing was quite, even his heart...

Simba tried to nudge Vieil closer to the dew pool, in hopes another drink was all he needed. Upweke let him spend as long as he needed to watch the dead lizard, and come to terms with what had happened.

Simba had only seen two other animals die. Watched it pass away before him. That zebra he had to look in the eyes of, back with this father in the Pridelands. That memory was old, and everything about it blurred around the edges... everything but the look in her eyes as she died.

The other was a Masigio, a large eared young fox, with scratches all down his back and small chunks of his neck and cheek missing. His cream fur was clotted with dark dried blood, and trails of it ran all the way down to his long legs, where the red disappeared amongst the black fur. He had crawled his way into the cave one night, and drank from the pool and dipped his blistered paws in the cold water. He collapsed next to Simba, the only animal in the cave that wasn't a tiny bird of rodent, and with the last two breaths of his body sighed and relaxed before dying. Sometimes Simba still gets phantoms of the fox's last breath clouding against his forearm. The next day the eagle that had been responsible for the attack on the fox came in for near starvation. Sili gave her the corpse, and the eagle had laughed to herself for hours. It made the mice and the brush tails huddle together in fear. Simba watched as she barrowed into his stomach and ate his soft insides.

When she was done, Simba got to chew on the bones.

Old Vieil's body rocked a bit in a strong breeze, and Simba nearly tumbled over himself in fright. When he finally gathered his strength to stand, Upweke said that they should continue to take the body back to the family. He would have wanted that. Simba nodded and scooped old Vieil back into his jaws.

It was easy to find. Old Vieil had talked non-stop about how to get there, the twisted spine grass and the wildebeest skeleton, close by to the wind pushed tree and the dead bushes with the tiny yellow flowers beneath it. There was no one there at first, a place as barren as the rest of the wastelands. But when he eased old Vieil's body down by tree, and took a step back, they came from everywhere. Far brighter than he thought possible, quick footed and fast of mind. They were like little gems skittling about the dust as they came closer, stopped and considered, before coming closer again. Upweke stepped beside Simba, and lowered his head to the ground.

"I am Upweke, many of you may know of me was the Wondering Scar Face. With me is Nia. We have been carrying Vieil home for three days now, but unfortunately he passed away this morning. Is this is family?" Upweke had been careful not to call Simba what he usually did, which was little lion, or cub. Simba was greatful, he didn't want the reactions that came with simply saying lion, not right now. Hopefully they just past him off as a peculiar looking jackal.

A lizard more paler than the rest came forward, she came up to old Vieil and embraced him in her tiny arms.

"How did he die?" She asked, remarkably clear and upbeat.

"Peacefully," Upweke answered. As the lady's eyes moved to rest on him, Simba felt the need to tell them. Something. A thing to hold. But what to say?

"His last words," they all turned and looked at him, as his quiet voice raised without his consent. "His last words where that, life is full of questions, and idiots are full of answers." The family all laughed, which Simba thought bewildering, but he was laughing too. There was something about that moment that made him feel alright again. Not back to normal, but better.

* * *

_The Cub, in the Bone Forest:_

"Are you ready to keep going?" Upweke asked as he inspected the ground for shoots. "We should make the First Tree this time." Simba eased himself up on his sore paws and straightened his posture. They had been running all day, not even stopping to hide from the midday heat like usual.

"Yeh," Simba replied. He was as ready as he would ever be.

They had made good ground that day, and Simba was managing to run longer now that he could pant properly. Two runs ago they had reached the Bone Forest. It was a place Simba had heard a lot about, thousands of bare trees interwoven so tightly that some created shade pools. They were white like bones, and the only noise the forest made was the high pitched squeaks from them rubbing against one another. The sounds were particularly bad today because of the strengthening wind. But no matter how terrible the forest sounded, Simba was infinitely glad for the patchy shade as he darted beside Upweke, for at this high hour the sun made his skin feel like it was catching on fire. But still... the forest was spooky, and something smelt fearful and wrong about it.

The wind now howled as they weaved through the trees and clustering boulders. Upweke had him running straight into it, and it clawed at his eyes and pushed him back, so that every step took more and more strength, and sometimes he was running blind. It was a nightmare and offered no cool relief like the winds that stirred the Pridelands. It was as hot as the sun, and half as savage.

Simba looked for the First Tree; Upweke had told him that he would know it for what it was, once he glimpsed it. He scanned the blue and runny horizon, as invisible waves melted it apart. When Simba licked his lips, this rough tongue came away coated in the fine dust and sand of the wastelands. Every animal had it, no matter how they cleaned, always in their fur and between their toes. Simba looked more like his mother with every passing day, but that was only because the dust was hiding his golden fur and turning him the same colour as the ground.

Then, he figured it out. The smell, the way the forest made his skin crawl...for _reasons _and _memories _that flashed back into clarity just as the shadows in the distance took form and moved in an awkward lumbering gait.

Hyenas.

"Run! Upweke, run!" Simba screamed, darting in front of Upweke on some half formed idea of shielding the vulnerable prey animal, before sense dug in, letting him know he was the more defenseless one.

No father to protect you now.

Upweke stepped over him and stared at him as he calmly walked on.

"What is it?" He asked, just as the sounds of the hyena's snorts and laughs started to echo. Simba was petrified and amazed at Upweke inabilities to sense them. From where he was crouched in the sand, painfully ready to spring any direction at break neck speed, Simba hissed.

"Hyenas, they're coming."

"Well I certainly hope so,"

Upweke walked on, and Simba couldn't move, couldn't...couldn't even function because he was stuck repeating Upweke's words and the amused look he had on his face.

Simba tried to follow obediently, not wanting Upweke to get too far away. After travelling together for so long, it felt unnatural to not be shadowing the now-evidently-crazy Kudu. Two big hyenas came jogging towards him, a third came out of the trees to the side. One of the biggest hyenas Simba had ever seen, and probably the biggest hyena to stalked the face of the earth, came jogging towards Upweke while the rest kept a distance, and even while moving towards each other, they were already shouting greetings. Simba could see the big hyena laugh and slobber something that made Upweke snort so hard the dust around him flew up into the air.

Simba's belly now scrapped the ground, he was hyper aware of everything the hyenas did, looking for the instant they turned and shredded Upweke to pieces. Not that he could get there in time, or do anything to stop them if it came to it. His ears were flat against his head, and his legs shook in a volatile combination of exhaustion and horror.

A cold, soft nose ghosted over his flank, and Simba spun in a whirlwind and snarled, his paw outstretched and his claws digging and raking across whatever had jumped in surprise, but not done it fast enough to avoid the terrified cub's attack. Simba watched the big beast skip away, howling in teasing humour rather than pain. Around them, there was more, three, four, five. Lying in the ground and panting, scratching at their fleas...watching him.

He couldn't bloody believe it. Upweke was insane. He didn't think to tell him that the friend he was on the way to treat with, was a hyena? Simba could not think of a creature that he feared and hated more, his dreams always ended in him being surrounded, against a wall. Sometimes Nala was there, and she screamed at him to do something, anything, be useful for once in your life. But sometimes she wasn't there. Instead it was his father, standing up above and watching him. And he would scream for help, but his father would just stare.

He would always wake up just as they lunged to finish him, screaming and howling.

"Little lion. Cub. Young Cub!" Upweke's voice was right next to him, and shook him back to reality. In a quick scope of his surroundings, Simba realised that Upweke had come over to him, along with the monstrous hyena, who watched him with deep orange eyes.

"I can't- I can't!" Simba said, his shaky breath rattling his voice so much that he was sure they couldn't understand a word.

"Calm down little cub we won't lay a claw on ya." The monstrous hyena's voice was so croaky and strong that Simba couldn't tell if it was male or not, but the two swollen teats told him female, and one with new cubs back in the burrow.

But the dangling penis told him male.

Simba looked away from the confusion and to Upweke. Who was currently nibbling at a prickle in his leg with not a care. With a deep breath Simba tried to lie to himself, and be convinced, at least for now, that he was fine. Upweke would protect him, wouldn't risk his life like this, wouldn't –

That hyena was too close! Too close! Simba sprung for Upweke's legs and crouched there. A ferocious snarl he didn't know he had hissing out from between his bared teeth as he swivelled every which way, glaring at the five, six, hyenas from behind Upweke's legs.

The monstrous confusion sniffed in his direction and muttered something in the ear of the hyena beside her.

"Apologies Fisi, I wouldn't have brought him along if I knew he would react like this." Upweke walked backwards and licked the snarling cub's head. Simba tried to relax, for Upweke's sake. Squirming back a tiny bit so that Upweke's front hooves were either side of his shoulders, Simba lay his head down on his paws and licked his nose.

Licking his nose always helped distract his mind, and it helped to shake him back down to ground. If he could just focus on his nose and his paws in the dirt, maybe he could trick his brain into glossing over everything else.

"Sorry Upweke," Simba whispered. Upweke grunted.

"In hindsight, I should have told you. I just didn't expect you to have any fears of them." Upweke's humble confession almost made Simba completely forget about the circling hyenas. Until the confusing monstrosity started to talk.

"You grass-rippers all think lion's are it. King of beasts. They don't feel fear, they can't be stopped, and they're untouchable. Most of you have them as your gods. But us meat-rippers know that they fear and die as easy as the rest of us." She lowered her head to get a better look of Simba. "Especially the cubs."

"Can we move on to business." One of Upweke's hooves lifted and set down in front of Simba in a protective gesture. And in Upweke's mind, a clear warning.

You'll have to go through me.

He startled a bit when he felt the little lion hide his face against his foot.

"Course. Business." Fisi the Cunning said with a smile full of half cracked teeth, it was a wonder she was still able to conceive pups at her age, but everything about this woman made him wonder. "We've been running that giraffe you told us to target. He's had no sleep, and hasn't stood still for two days; I have my strongest girls on rotation, looking after him." She giggled along with the others. As they did, a sound made a few turn around and watch a group of boulders intently. Upweke pricked his ears and made out the dragging of something heavy, and the mutters of two hyenas.

From amongst the boulders, two brothers dragged between them the carcass of a red and half eaten lioness. The sound of Fisi talking was only just loud enough for him to hear over the rushing of blood to his head in anger. Why did the hyenas always manage to do the completely worst things? If it wasn't for him this clan would be nonexistent. Starved down to a handful of pathetic scavengers, nothing like the efficient law keepers he and Fisi had worked hard to train them into.

"A trophy of war for you to sniff at, mother, and you too Scar Face. He was getting too close to that miracle vulture's healing cave, that one you're so protective of, so me and the brother here took care of him for ya." They came and dumped him down before their mother, who looked frustrated at the lack of social manners, but not annoyed enough to care just yet. One of the lion killing brothers, the one who had said nothing so far, opened his great maws in a laugh before he started to talk.

"Lion meat isn't as good as I remember, maybe he was just a particularly stri-" he yelped and jumped and his mother swiped at him quicker than a viper.

"Shut up! Can't you see our company? Bone head! I thought you were a hyena not a parrot!" The hyenas started to circle and howl as they argued, and the last thing Upweke wanted was to have to wait through one of their infamous fights. The last fight had taken two days to settle, and by the end of it they had killed four of their own.

Upweke rolled his eyes. Hyenas, he would never understand. They were more a danger to themselves, than any other animal.

"Fisi, about the giraffe" He called out, bringing the matriarch's attention back to him. "I've been telling you to finish him for nearly a year; it's frankly taken you too bloody long." Fisi snorted and laughed.

"It's not easy feat to kill a giraffe, especially a killer like that one. He murdered his own family, and I heard his father was a savage man, not as savage as him, but savage enough to be a terror to kill. Especially as a giraffe, they aren't fighting animals. How would he even have killed them?"

"They got a lethal kick, but after they've lashed out they nearly topple over," said the lion killing son who had _not _nearly had his nose slashed off by his own mother.

"He wouldn't be fazed with stepping on my precious hunties and slipping their ribs between each other, and I didn't get this old and fat from being stupid."

One of the beasts who had spent the whole meeting cleaning rocks from in-between her toes sat up and spoke with such confidence that Upweke figured her to be the next in command after Fisi.

"It'll be a feast when it's done. I've personally been overseeing the whole hunt, and he will be down sooner rather than later. You should bring the baby lion along Upweke, he needs to run with his own kind again. We'll even let him deliver the killing blow. It'll be the funniest thing in the wastelands. What do you say little lion?" They all laughed and then turned to listen to the cub's response.

Upweke felt him shivered.

"You hyenas would sooner rip into me, than into that giraffe." For some reason they found that insult to be hilarious, and laughed so loud it rang in Upweke's ears. He couldn't help but smirk. Insightful and cautious, but Upweke had known these hyenas for a long time. He would trust them with his life, even though sometimes it seemed like the complete opposite was the truth.

"Awh, the lion don't trust us Grandma. What are we to do?" The hairy second-in-command sniggered to Fisi the Cunning, who sighed.

"Obviously the baby lion has suffered at the jaws of hyenas. You fools, we need to let him know that not all hyenas are cruel bastards."

"Aye, some of us are cruel bitches."

"There is nothing a hyena hates more than another hyena. Even my beautiful family has had its fights amongst herself. Whoever those hyenas were, they are not us. And if we ever met, only one family would walk away. Even cubs that suckle the same mother, and began in the same womb, will lock jaws and look to kill the other over simple things like scraps. There is never an animal more at war herself, than us."

"That just made me hate you more." The little cub snapped, his feisty temperament returning.

"When you are big lion, you will understand. When you're big like him." Fisi inclined her head to the dead lion that lay amongst them. The little lion almost_ spat_ the next thing he said.

"I'll grow way bigger than that guy. My mum could have thrown that guy like a rag. And my dad... he's the biggest lion I had ever seen." Upweke knew that it might be the adoration of a young child talking, but something told him the cub was telling the truth... the chilling truth. His face felt cold as all the blood drained, and he tried to carry on normal, but adrenaline pumped through him just thinking of a lion that size.

Simba may be fine now, young and small and able to be stepped on and stopped easily should he turn to his monster instincts. But Upweke knows he will never completely trust the young lion, not in the same way he would trust these dirty hyenas. If he ever _did_ get to such a size...

Upweke knows a disaster when he sees one. There was something highly unnatural about raising a killing machine. And sometimes Upweke had to fight the need to stomp the cub into the ground and be done with it. Everyone would be so much safer if he did. But the promise to Sili, and the innocence of the tiny cub always drew him back.

This was not a healthy relationship. This cub needed to be with his own kind, before some animal with a courage that Upweke lacks would do the right thing and finish the cub. As humanely as possible, Upweke tried to say, but knew he was kidding himself. Lions had never stopped to kill humanely. They had started eating his mother's guts while she still screamed and kicked.

Upweke had to shake himself out of those memories. He looked down to check on the cub. He had his head on his paws, and looked up to Upweke as he looked down to him.

Two red eyes, hard as stone, not a flicker of fear or milky strain of pause in them.

He had to go. The cub had grown dear to him. He needed to go before the unthinkable happened. It was the gentler prey that knew what it took to survive, and when stuck between jaws and claws, they would survive. It would be hard, but it was what was best for the little lion.

The hyenas murmured amongst themselves and the second walked closer than the rest, her head cocked one way and then the other as she regarded the tiny cub hiding behind his feet.

"All children think of their parents as the best in the world. But if you're parents are so amazing, why are you here?"

"I... I... ran away."

"Why?" She pressed, still walking forward. The cub pressed closer to his hooves, only one eye poking out from behind his leg.

"I did something bad, and, my father told me never to come back." He sounded broken, and Upweke wanted to lick his head and comfort him again, but that went against his brand new conviction to see the lion away to a better, more natural life.

"Ah, those cranky males. In our species the males are the placid ones."

"What's the saying? That the hyena doesn't need god to give her balls, she grows her own."

As the hyenas talked, Upweke dwelled on the cub's words. It was rarer than rain that the cub talked about his past, and he tried to fit the new information onto the scrappy minefield that was the cub's life.

"We've been taking care of our side Scar Face, now yours." A brother grunted as he scratched his half eaten ear.

"West gorge," Upweke said while turning to speak directly to Fisi. He would be damned before he had to answer to any of those boys. There was a reason the female hyena rules the pack. "Down yellow paw trail, by that boulder covered in shit from the hawk's nest."

It had been Sili's idea in the beginning. With many of her patients, she could do nothing but make dying less painful. Bodies piled up, and once a long time ago disease had broken out and killed all those she tended to, and nearly her as well. Taking the dead away wasn't good enough. She had needed someone to get rid of them for good, before they became ripe and stained the land with illness. There were plenty who could do the job, but she needed a predator she could trust. Luckily Upweke had known someone all too happy to oblige. Granted she was as trusty as a crocodile, which was to say, not at all. But she wasn't a _bad_ person, in fact, she could be quite honorable in her own way. And after Sili had saved the life of one of their hyena's after a difficult birth, the vulture had their complete protection.

"Good." A brother hyena grunted. With a sly glance to Simba he added, "There had better not be less there because of his greedy mouth. Lions always eat more than they need."

"There is less than last time, but not because of him. He hardly eats anything at all. The weeks were good to Sili, and nearly all her patients have recovered. I give him nothing anyway, Sili, she cares for him."

"Healing every finch and ant that crawls to her feet not enough? Now she's mothering a lion."

The jab was appreciated by most the hyenas, who laughed, but Fisi the Cunning, who had been quiet for awhile, had just run low on her last ounce of patience.

"All right, meeting over!" She snapped. Jumping to her feet and baring her teeth to get a few of the lazier ones up as well. "All of you scurry back to your holes. And boys, take this insult to our guest from his sight. I need to discuss important matters with Upweke."

Most walked off, clustered in groups as they finished their conversations. Fisi trotted towards Upweke, her gait more of a waddle from old age, fatness, and the damage of countless hard pregnancies. She gestured for him to follow and he carefully picked his feet from around the cub and followed her.

"You stay there little cub, you will be fine." She said sweetly to Simba as he glared from his tiny height.

He followed Fisi quite aways before she stopped and spun around to him.

"Who is he?" She demanded fire in her eyes as she looked more alive than she had in years.

"Who?" Upweke echoed, at a lost with what she meant. It was almost as if he's clueless answer had physically gutted her. She stared, and her mouth moved, but only vulgar swears and oaths against his ancestors came spewing out.

"I know you for a wise kudu. You have suffered hardship, you know hardship, most importantly, you know how to survive hardship. Why do you think I still my hunties from kudu? I respect your wisdom, you advise my clan well, I trust you. But this? You getting old? Perhaps I should have served my godly purpose and not strayed, old age makes the prey crazy. Poor Kudu going crazy. You deserved to be hunted down for this cluelessness." She closed her eyes and breathed deeply before beginning much calmer. "What do you know of the cub that travels with you?"

"He was saved by Sili, she takes a lot of pride in him, and I had promised to her to look after him when she was busy. Which is a lot. And I suppose I had taken a shining to him as well. I mean, it's not every day you become the father figure to a lion." Fisi scoffed as his words just as the last let his mouth. "But I have recently decided that he cannot stay."

"You abandoning him?" she yelped, surprised.

"No, I am just now aware that I am not suited to keep him, nor is Sili. She is sick and wastes from diseases, one of the reasons why I look after the cub so often. She may die soon, and with her the healing cave will go, and with that, the food for the cub will go, and with his food gone, I do not like the looks of what could become of him."

"What? You fear him starving in front of your eyes? Or you fear him turning on you?"

Upweke was ashamed to say the truth.

"Typical grass-shreader." Fisi scoffed. "Do you know how much food that cub should be getting?"

Upweke couldn't say that he did.

"His own weight! Good tough meat, marrow from fresh bones and rich, ripe livers. What has he been getting? Do you know?"

"I believe a rodent a day, and..." Upweke thought about it deeply, " on the journey here he didn't eat anything."

"How long was the journey here?"

"Well, it was... close to three days, or there about."

"Dear god,"

"I never thought they needed that much food, everyone thinks that a meal a week is the right about for a lion."

"An _entire carcass_ a week, a lion will sit down for an afternoon and strip their kill to the bone. They will eat an unbelievable amount. But that is an already grown lion,_ growing_ lions need more! He has so much growing to do, and it will happen so rapidly you won't believe your eyes. I won't watch him be stunted by you ignorant grass-rippers, I ought to take him into my clan now, and raise him right."

"Sili would be distraught, she loves the kid. But I can't say I disagree."

"Sili wastes, you told me. She can fly if she wants to see him, just tell her where the den is, and she can visit unharmed. She is in no fit state to be raising him though. Let me take the cub into my clan."

"I can't help but feel this is all too convenient. You would never take in a cub that wasn't yours, especially a lion. Your sons just killed one with glee. What's your motives you unfortunate smelling lady?"

"My motive Upweke? My motive? Let's put it this way shall we. How long have you and Sili been caring for this child?"

"About a half cycle of the moon."

"So thirteen days or so?"

"A bit more, but yeah, that it about right."

"Alright, and you have noticed _nothing_, you haven't clued in on who he is? It took me ten bleeding minutes and you probably would have continued from new to full moon and all the way back to new again. He would be stunted and weak, maybe some lions naturally look like that, but this cub here should be double the size. Should have healthy thick legs, and a small hanging gut. Royal lions eat more and they grow more and I can assure you th-

Wait.

"Royal lions?"

"That animal there is the bloody rightful king you twit. Have you not been hounded by those ravens? The birds speak of a dead prince, but the ravens ask the animals if they have seen a lone cub. What does that scream to you? Someone powerful wants a cub, an important cub."

He had been visited by ravens, three, back before the little cub came into his life, but he had thought more about the strange proposals and deals they were offering him, more than the mention of a lone cub. By the time Sili introduced him to the cub, he had forgotten the lesser details of the meetings completely.

"We should take him back then, to his rightful place."

"No. You heard him. His family dosn't want him anymore, he was chased off. What we should do is raise him, and make him strong. When he returns as a full grown lion and reclaims his rule, then we will profit no doubt. Could you imagine? The king, oweing us his life? Veiwing us as his true family?"

"You mean to serve yourself over your king?"

"I'm a hyena aren't I?" She laughed humorlessly, looking up to the clouds for strength, like she couldn't believe what he was implying that they do instead.

"In the old ways, the hyena were the lion's loyalist officers. But I suppose the whole world has strayed since those times, and so must the subjects in order to survive."

"Yes, survive, that is all we do these days, in this god forsaken place. Forget your precious circle of life Upweke, life _is _survival, and there is no circle. Now I will be taking this cub, and raising him right and if you have objects, you can go through my hunties."

Upweke knew that she could never harm him, not after all they had been through together. But she was a vile woman, and it wasn't beneath her to simply deter him. Be it a little chew on the leg, or spiriting the little lion away in secret. She had served her family well for her entire life, and with this decision she was securing power for her family. Wealth. She could have whatever she wanted if she mother him into a good and obedient lion. And she would. She was a good mother.

He wouldn't have it. He wouldn't have a child raised in these wastelands, away from their mother. Be it rightful king or not.

"I refuse. This cub is going east, there is food a plenty there, and wise animals in every herd. They are good in the east and he deserves better than sister killing hyenas, gnawing on the few bones I throw them."

"You better watch it old kudu, remember who you're talking to."

"Get your fucking facts straight Fisi! Remember who _you're _talking to." With narrowed eyes he swirled and stalked back to the little lion, before she could so much as lunge at him. "Young cub, we're going. Now." The cub got to his feet and trotted towards him at a much too slow pace for Upweke's liking, something he must of realised because his eyes widened and he started to race like lighting across the sand.

"Watch out!"

Fisi lunged at him, her claws in his side, she hung there and snarled at him. Upweke craned his neck just so, and one of his long sharp horns drove hard in between her ribs. She jumped back with a scalding yelp and barked at him, before racing around and running for the little lion.

Upweke stampeded after her, and to his immense relief he couldn't see the little lion anywhere. Fisi was old and his long leaps caught up to her short powerful ones within seconds. He dash his front hooves down upon her, and she flipped around onto her back and raked his underbelly as his momentum catapulted him on further. He spun, and she spun, and though she had a great range of terrifying sounds, he could still bellow and drown her out. They struck and bit at each other. He was even biting there at one stage, but that left his neck horribly exposed. Not that she would go for his jugular on purpose, but rage changed beasts. They were so loud, and the dust they had thrown up so thick that he didn't notice her hunties coming. They barrelled into him at such speed that he fell on his side, hard, and the wind was ripped from him.

"Don't hurt him," Fisi coughed as she struggled to her feet. Just in time too, for one had her jaws wrapped around his neck, just behind his jaw. She came up and look him in the eyes as he lay panting, blood oozing, six or so hyena's immobilizing him. "I'll never understand where you get your notions from, dear Upweke." Then she turned to her hunties. "Just chew him a bit." They giggled and started poking him, laughing as he winced and tried to ignore them.

Fisi snapped at one hyena who was standing by.

"Find that cub." She snarled, before putting her nose down and threading through the trees. Upweke took a deep breath, and hoped the cub was far away, but close enough to hear his shouts.

"Go east Simba!" He bellowed. "Across the sand, don't go back to Sili, I'll explain to her, run east and don-" he was cut off by a hyena clamping down on his thigh, and he grunted his scream down and tried to kick him off.

"You're lucky you're such an old friend of grandma's, otherwise we would be worming our way inside you right now, chewing on that faithful heart of yours. I always have to fight for the heart, it's everyone's favourite." They looked at his chest and giggled.

Upweke told them to go fuck themselves, but they only giggled. He rolled his eyes and accepted his fate as temporary play thing. Fisi could forget getting any scraps from him in the coming months. This was a worse insult than that time eleven seasons ago, when she had helped her half grown pups ambush him in the canyon. _They're only training you silly kudu!_

And now he was sure one of those very same pups stood on him as he lay in the sand, a dark smile on her face as she watched him curse and sigh.

Bloody run little cub, get yourself the hell out of here, because no one understands what it means to be _good_ anymore. They haven't for a long time.

Himself included.


	5. I Gets Up When I Like

I Gets Up When I Like

_Simba, Running Away Once More:_

Even though Upweke had screamed for him to _not _go back to Sili, some part of Simba still thought that it was the wisest move. It was a three day journey, two if he ran his stubby legs till they collapsed. He knew the way. He could do it. Sili would know what to do, she was smart, and she could help him. Most importantly, she could _fly_. She could lead him across the sands, and it would be safe.

But Upweke had said not to. And that fact was indisputable. He knew, or understood, or was just smart enough to figure out, that returning to Sili would be an unwise decision. So no matter how wise it seemed to Simba, he took the kudu's last advice.

Probably the last advice he will ever give me. Animals did not return from the sand, animals _vanished _in the sands.

So how in the hell was he supposed to do it? Upweke seemed to think he could, and Upweke was from the east, so maybe he had crossed the sands and judged Simba good enough. Upweke was kind of a legend. It was plausible. If he kept up this reasoning, perhaps he could trick himself into not shaking so much it was hard to run straight, and he could cross the sands with bravery and speed unseen before.

So he ran out of the Bone Forest, and slipped between the boulders, rushed up the crumbling slope and when he came to the rise, he was in freefall for two seconds of his life as he catapulted over. The hyena's howls were loud, but they were behind him, and that was all that Simba could think about. He was getting away, _he_ was getting away.

He ran and ran and ran, he lungs burned, his skin burned, the sun burned, his paws burned, and then eventually... he turned numb. It felt familiar. It felt calming, just one foot in front of the other.

But, inevitably, the numbness changed into something else. It felt like his body was not his anymore, it was just muscle and bones galloping away underneath him, surging him on. The high day left, and evening came. He crossed through the empty ocean of stalky grass, and when he saw the beginnings of the sands, he came to a stumbling stop, his mouth hanging open. Sand, for eternity. Nothing but sand, and sun and slopes and grains and nothing and too much.

The sun was on the side of the world when he took his first steps into the wasteland of the Wastelands. It wasn't quite sunset yet, but the light was changing appearance from whip sharp, to that of the down underneath Sili's feathers. Soft and peaceful, and the world looked to have embraced the coming night with equal love and fear as dusk settled over it. His shadow was so long it looked to touch the horizon as the seconds slipped by. East, it was east he had to go. So the little lion cub put his back to the falling sun, and galloped into the hot sand, his shadow acting like an arrow. Who knows how much the rest by the brink could have cost him, the hyenas could be close at hand, or they could be on the way to Sili's, refusing to believe that such a little cub would dare to cross the sands.

He followed his shadow, running along the feet of dunes bigger than Priderock. Sunset came and the sands became a blood bath, he ran. Young night came and the stars appeared in the tens of thousands. True night came, and the air was frigid, the sands were icy cold, and he became lost. Stars were still appearing, now uncountable. Simba tried to study them. Which constellation pointed to the east?

He did not know, and not willing to waste energy running in the wrong direction, he curled up on the sand and attempted to sleep. The sand was cold, the wind was cold, and the sounds the dunes made when the wind rushed against them was eerie. Simba's eyes were closed to keep the sand from them, not because he was getting any sleep. He needed to rest every chance he got, he couldn't afford to be sitting around like this. But the cold and the terror of a true desert night never let him drift. Eventually he got up and ran up the tallest dune just to keep warm. He lay down at the top, waves of sand falling where ever he pushed, and tried to count the dunes, and find differences amongst them. His eyes could see far, and they worked well in the dark. Not as good as Sili's, but better than Upweke's.

He looked up.

What did the great kings think of him? Simba looked amongst them, searching for kind eyes until his neck got unimaginably stiff and sore. Then he rolled on his back and continued. Did they even look over him anymore, considering what he had done and what he had become? Simba frowned.

Well screw them. Screw them and screw his father. Screw them all to hell.

He rolled around and lay his chin upon his paws, with eyes shut he brooded and cursed. It wasn't his fault, he never did anything wrong on purpose. He had been only a little cub. Nala had begged him to take her to the graveyard; she was as much to blame! But _no, _he got in trouble, and she got sooked over and tended to like a fragile flower. If Simba knew anything, it was that Nala was _not _a fragile flower, but she did a heck of a job acting like one when there was something in it for her. Simba felt tears well up at the thought of his best friend. What was she doing now? What did she think of him, being so pathetic and weak? Maybe she was happy he was gone, just like his father. Simba couldn't think about that too long, it hurt. Nala would never. They were best friends, they were partners in crime. She would miss him, he was sure of it.

But he had been wrong before.

The memory of that night brought back what his father had said, and he open his eyes to stare at the stars once more.

_Simba I'm very disappointed in you_

_I know._

When you're young, some memories stay and some don't. Some moments you forget until one day, you remember them suddenly, like lifting dust off it as you brushed by.

_Dad? We're pals right?_

_Right._

_And we'll always be together. Right?_

He had forgotten, but now as he looked at the stars he remembered with a shock colder than the desert night.

_Those kings will always be there to guide you... and so will I._

The sky paled, and one horizon bloomed in deep pink. A ring of sweet blue, and the clouds were highlighted in dry yellow and gold. Simba studied the colours of the sunrise as he ran towards it, the red and black dawns of the Pridelands replaced with the fiasco of the desert morns.

_Go East Simba! Across the sand, don't go back to Sili, I'll explain to her, run east and don-_

Run east and don- what? Don't stop? Don't look back? Don't drink the water it's poisonous? There was no water out here, so that wasn't likely. He was just going to have to risk it, and do what he knew he must.

His name was Simba. And Upweke knew. Had he know he was the prince all along?

Simba. Not Simba the future king. Just Simba. A lion. And he would cross these sands. He couldn't see an end to them right now, as he trotted along the spine of a dune, but one day, he would make it. One day he would see green in the distance and croak his delight. The way sturdy ground feels, after so long in the shifting sands, would make him buckle and roll against the parched ground like it was water. It was not, it was cracked ground. And he needed water, badly. It had been four days in the sands, and the only relief he had gotten was a lap of water from an oasis tinier than him. But it had saved his life, following the footprints of some big three toes things. He never glimpsed them, but their footprints saved him.

Maybe the kings really were watching over him?

He ran for the green, and it was so easy and wonderful. No sand to suck his leg all the way up to his knee. It felt like he was flying. Sand on rock turned to cracked earth with the odd scratchy grass pile bursting from it. And that turned to prickly grass, which turned to grassland, which turned to lush rainforest.

Simba stopped and stared. It was impossible. He turned around and looked at the sands far behind him, then turned to the dark coolness of the forest. He could only imagine what sort of water reservoir lay below his feet, to feed such life, so suddenly.

He looked a breath, and walked in.

It was shady and cool; the floor was soft and damp. He could hear thousands of animals around him, singing and feeding in the trees. Simba stopped and stared at a clump of red flowers that hung beneath a waxy leaf, dark dark green and with an infant gecko stretched perfectly in its crease. It looked like something he had dreamt up. He sniffed the peculiar scent of the blossoms and crunched his nose at the foreign scent. Gentle wind brushed through the tree tops, and the rattling sighs of the forest echoed in his ears. He had heard trees rattle in the breeze before, for sure, but he had never heard the particular way a rainforest breathed. Simba tried to pick the smell of a waterhole, but everything else was too alien and strong.

He pushed on, staying away from tracks, not wanting to be seen. Frogs sung, but they did not lead him to a waterhole like they would in the Pridelands. Instead they lived in the creases of leaves, where they sat in private ponds no bigger than them. Simba prowled through the jungle, sometimes twigs would snap, and he would learn how to avoid that. With his own noise gone, the forest filled his ears, and he could finally pick the unmistakable sound of water rippling over rocks. Ears swiveling as he tried to pinpoint the direction, Simba jogged around tree trunks and ducked underneath bushes as his thirst burned him. The scent of jungle water filled his mind, and the sound of it trickling screamed inside his ears.

It was a sapling of a creek, not good enough for fish or waterweeds, but enough to run along its rock bed and quietly splash when it fell over small edges. Simba lapped at it, his rough tongue scrapping the slippery rock bottom. It was chilled, and sweet. Nothing like the prideland watering holes, filled with mud and teaming with life, hippos pushing against one another for space. Nothing like the cave reservoir in the Wastelands, filtered through limestone silt and sitting stagnant for months. Simba put his sore paws in the water. Paws that had lived through the jagged Wastelands, and an endless run across the harsh sands. It felt like they pulsed, as the water wove between the cracks and blisters of his pads. He walked along the slippery rocks, with the creek soothing his paws. It twisted and turned, and gradually deepened enough for Simba to slide down into it and let it rush over him. He opened his eyes, and the water was clear. Waterweeds as bright as the sunlight from above ripped around his paws, and tiny gemstone fish danced around his shadow. Simba opened his mouth, and let it fill with water before straightening his legs and emerging, he swallowed it all, and breathed heavy and laughed as he shook himself and scattered the jungle around with droplets.

This is where Upweke had wanted him to go, to survive and become something better than a wasteland skeleton. Simba crouched under the water again, filling his mouth up, and watching the fish smaller than grains of sand. He lifted his feet up, and let the current carry him half a meter, before snapping his paws back down and bursting from the water, spluttering his mouthful of water and gasping in adrenaline. This was all very dangerous for a lion who did not know how to swim. Simba blinked his eyes until they didn't hurt anymore, than lapped at the water as it glided by him. He moved his paws softly, exploring the feel of the velvet waterweeds and the many different rocks that made up the bed. When he was full, and a bit cold, Simba climbed out and walked along the bank, headed for a patch of sun that streamed through the canopy onto a large black rock. He stretched out and closed his eyes, sleep falling easier than it had in days. Each heavy breath accompanied by a rumbling purr.

* * *

_The Dynamic Duo, by the Jungle Edge:_

The warthog family milled about in the mud, snorting and squealing to each other. Timon looked over at Pumbaa, wondering about how his old friend was handing the scene. Indeed, the lone warthog looked on in unconcealed longing, pain on his face, as a bit of runny snot leaking out one nostril. It was a hideous sight.

"That's _ours_ Timon," the warthog whined as he snorted his snot back inside his nose. "And they won't let us anywhere near it!" Timon resisted the temptation to rub his bruised ribs as he remembered what happened when they strayed too close at dawn.

"Ah, they'll leave soon enough." And so they waited, concealed in the forest, watching as the clan of warthogs dug around in _their _spot. For weeks this patch had been theirs. It was unspoiled delight, and Timon and Pumbaa had been careful to keep it that way. The roots were rich, the grubs were good and most importantly they didn't have to deal with assholes. That changed at dawn, when they woke up to find a battalion of warthogs plowing into one of their favourite digging grounds.

Timon growled as he watched the big male slurp up some worms. He and Pumbaa had been civil, for lion's sake, calmly coming down and explaining that they were in their territory and if they would be so kind as to move on to the thousand other acres of rich jungle and just stop _destroying it_. Of course the brute and his hideous wives had laughed at them. Losers, always the losers. At least Pumbaa could keep some of his ego, it had been the big male that chased him of. But Timon? A piglet had driven him into the ground.

He winced again and touched his sore ribs. It would take a long time to heal. He glared at all the tiny piglets in turn as they dug beside their mothers, not sure which one it had been, but determined to hate them all if so be it. His gaze moved to the big brute as he pushed one of his wives aside when she got too close to his digs. Greedy bastards.

"I hope he trips and falls, and his own wives eat him." Timon spat as he watched the clan continue to rip the site to shreds. Pumbaa grumbled, but didn't disagree.

As Timon started to drift off in his own violent daydreams, the forest filled with terrifying screams. Timon jumped to his feet to see what was going on. A streak of gold, the warthogs scattering, he couldn't believe his eyes.

"Timon!" Pumbaa scream-choked as they watched an animal they both hadn't seen in a long, long time.

"_The lion."_ Timon couldn't believe his eyes. Of course they had heard the rumours, but these lands had been lion free for decades now. That was if the locals weren't exaggerating. He had brushed the tales off for baseless gossip, if only for his own sanity. Timon hopped quicker than the eye could follow onto Pumbaa's back. "Run Pumbaa! _Run!"_

But Pumbaa just sat, watching the scene unfold. The lioness had no luck, and the warthogs had started dancing in circles around her. In fact, as one of the hideous wives charged, it was an incredibly small lion...

Where there was a cub, there was a mother. Timon felt the roots of his hair buzz in fear.

The cub lashed out, making the wife scream and swirl around to run. She tripped in the deep holes her family had made in the mud, and quickly the cub had jumped on her back, biting down on her skin. Timon frowned as he watched. It was obviously a very naive cub, because his bites landed with no real harm, and she shook him off with not a wound to her. As the hideous wife trotted away, offended and snorting, the big male made a break for the cub and tossed the child into the air. The body looked limp and raggy as it twirled about, trying to get its feet underneath it before it crashed back down.

Timon screamed and scrambled to grab a handful of Pumbaa's mane as the warthog leapt from the cover without warning, racing as fast as a cheetah across the ground and into the unprepared brute's side. They both screamed those teeth curling pig screams and Timon decided he was safer on the ground. Jumping away from the grappling warthogs, wondering what the hell Pumbaa was thinking, Timon raced for cover. He looked up, and screamed bloody murder as he watched the lion catapult directly towards him. He prayed to the lord and threw himself to the mud as the lion ran above him, completely ignoring him.

Of course he would ignore him. Stupid! He had big fat warthog's to choose from. Timon scrambled to his feet, a warning for Pumbaa dying in his throat as he watched the lion sail over his friend too, latching his claws into the brute male and hurling him onto his back as he crash-landed. Instead of running, Pumbaa took the opportunity to drive his tusks into the male's exposed underbelly. The cub had started to snarl, a sound that lived in every animal's worst nightmare. Timon was frozen solid, the brute started to scream an octave higher, and even the fool hardy Pumbaa shielded away. The cub was laying blows on the brute as well, but still they were childish and innocent. Though the lean hunger evident in the cub's bony body spoke of anything other than that. With Pumbaa backing up, Timon took the opportunity to race across the upturned ground and onto his back, shouting in his friend's ear to _get the fuck out of here._

And he was too, they were half way through turning around and would have been out of there faster than farts if the cub hadn't screamed in that moment. Pumbaa jumped to his aid, driving the brute off him and causing him to roll over and over. When the brute got to his feet, he realised for the first time that his wives and piglets were nowhere to be seen, and that there was no one left to back him up. With a damning curse he galloped away down the grassy hill and into the plains where he and his ugly brood had ventured out from.

Pumbaa looked at the cub, and in doing so Timon was forced to face the kid as well. He was still lying where the brute had slammed him, now not nearly as golden from all the mud that covered him. Its red eyes flickered to them and it licked its split lip. Timon pulled on Pumbaa's ear so hard his muscles hurt, but Pumbaa ignored him.

"Thanks," the kid croaked, before wincing and coughing. Pumbaa took a step closer in concern.

"Pumbaa are you _nuts._" Timon hissed into his friend's undoubtable aching ear. This was not good for his nerves, he was sure he had lost two years of his life due to stress so far and now Pumbaa was going ahead and shaving off another five with his idiot concern.

"You alright little guy?" Pumbaa asked the cub, who winced as he tried to move.

"No."

"You need some help?"

"No." The cub frowned, before sighing. "...yeah, actually."

Meanwhile Timon had pulled enough hair out to be classified as bald.

"Ah, Pumbaa, could I have a word." He asked with a squeaking voice. Pumbaa snorted and trotted a few meters from the cub. Timon jumped to the ground and Pumbaa look down at him.

"What the hell? That is a_ lion_. What are you thinking?" Timon pulled on his friend snout as he screamed into his face.

"Yeah but he's only little." Pumbaa reasoned, tilting his head, accidentally pushing Timon back into the mud.

"But he'll get bigger!"

"Then he'll be on our side!"

Timon couldn't believe the audacity of the warthog. A lion? On their side? What's he gonna do? Protect them and beat up anyone who crosses them?

Wait...

"Pumbaa I have just had a brilliant idea." Timon announced to his loyal but dim-witted friend. Honestly, how had Pumbaa not noticed this ingenious strategy? Sometimes it was tiring being this brilliant. "He's a baby now, small, needs protecting, needs feeding. We take him in, raise him, and in return we have a bloody lion at our beck and call. It's genius!"

"Aaaaaahhhh," Pumbaa grunted, trying to process something he couldn't quite put into words. Timon leapt on his head and looked back over to the cub, who was currently struggling to his feet.

"Come on, he needs our help, now's out chance." He was injured, currently of little danger; quarter the size and strength of Pumbaa. There really was no time like the present.

"Say kid, how bad dose it hurt?" Timon asked with forced carefree happiness when they neared. He needed to nail this. The cub looked up at him and grunted.

"I've had worse." His red eyes scanned both him and Pumbaa up and down, and Timon wondered if the kid was thinking about launching a surprise attack on them. Time to put some food in the kid's gut before he got truly desperate.

"That's the spirit! Now what do you say about hustling up some grub to eat. You must be hungry, just skin and bones, aren't ya kid?" Timon jumped down and started foraging through the toiled ground, his attuned senses working hard to find a quick meal before he himself became one.

"Well that was why I tried to hunt those warthogs." The kid chuckled, sitting back down, completely spent of his energy. Timon waved a hand at him.

"Don't worry, Pumbaa here doesn't hold any grudges. Do ya buddy?"

"Naha, Hakuna Matata little guy." Pumbaa rumbled, sitting down beside the cub and nudging him with his elbow, an action that made the kid's ears perk up in surprise while his eyes narrowed in confusion.

"Hakuna Matata?" Pumbaa nodded, and Timon turned from his hunting to explain.

"It's our motto."

"What's a motto?" Gees, lions, top of the food chain but don't even know what a motto is.

"Like, your philosophy," Timon explained, before realising perhaps he didn't know what that was either. "What you believe... like, you know..." Timon looked pleadingly at Pumbaa who had started scratching his ear. The warthog looked from him to the cub.

"It means no worries." He said happily, drawing the kid into a conversation about Hakuna Matata as Timon chased after a particularly big worm. Digging furiously through the soil, Timon got a hold of it and pulled it out of the ground.

"Ah, here's a fine specimen!" He announced, holding it above his head, hoping the cub would chose it over him as he walked over. "Lucky find considering how much those warthogs destroyed the place. Here you go, have a try."

"A worm?" The kid asked, scrunching his nose. However he didn't seem as detested by the idea as Timon expected him to, evident by the fact that the lion gave it about one second consideration before taking it in his paw.

"Slimy yet satisfying." Pumbaa told him. Timon resisted the urge to gag at the warthog's basic sense of taste.

"Don't listen to him kid, it's the crunchy ones with all the flavour. I promise I'll find you some of those next."

Yeah, that's what they'll do. Into the jungle under the logs, there were plenty of good ones there. He had been hoping to say down in these low lands for another moon or more, but with this new development...besides, this spot was empty now. The worm in the cub's paw would be all that was left.

"Full of vitamins," Timon explained, "and they don't run away. Who needs the thrill of the chase?" Pumbaa snort-chuckled.

"Not an endangered species," the warthog added as Timon jumped back to the safety of his friend's big boof head.

"Doesn't even know the difference between life and death really, they have more in common with plants than animals. Not too bright. So there's no moral dilemma." He explained as he rested his elbows on Pumbaa's crown. He watched as the kid's head cocked to the side as he studied the worm.

"Moral dilemma?" He echoed. Another concept he would have to explain, Timon realised. Of course a lion didn't know what a moral dilemma was! Timon watched on as the kid shrugged his shoulders and said, _Oh well, Hakuna Matata,_ before swallowing the thing whole, obviously trying to resist the urge to gag. _Well at least he's trying_, Timon thought. _What a good kid. Who would have guessed?_

"That's the spirit!" Pumbaa shouted before prancing away. "Come on lets go find ya some more!" As they walked out of the clearing and into the beginnings of the forest, Timon turned around to talk to the kid as he trailed behind them.

"Ah, just a suggestion for next time, try chewing it first so it's not, you know, alive. They tend to wiggle less on the way down." The kid looked ill as he imagined the live animal he had just swallowed whole still twisting in his stomach. Timon waved his hands, trying to cheer him up. "But, you know, don't worry about it. More in common with plants, remember? A plant that moves, that's all. It will be half digested in two minutes so don't sweat the big stuff."

The grass clearing was a softly slopping bit of land, er, muddy patch, or whatever it was after the warthog family's destruction. But at the forest's edge it rose into a steep climb. The rainforest trees clung with their entire root's strength to the mountain side, and Timon watched as the cub eyeballed the forest from where he stood at the edge of it.

"How about you climb your way up first little buddy, and Pumbaa and me will walk behind, and catch ya if you slip." Timon thought it was a brilliant idea, if he did say so himself. Now the hair on the back of his neck wouldn't stand on end, anticipating a surprise attack from behind. Pumbaa, ever oblivious to Timon's true cunning motives though, took the suggest for face value.

"Good idea Timon. Say, it's not as steep as it looks. There's plenty of roots and trunks to jam your hooves between." The warthog sidestepped to let the quietly moving cub through. "Once we get up, it'll flatten out, and there is _loads _of bugs. You'll never believe you eyes!" Pumbaa snuffled and snorted in delight at the mention of the mountain top that they usual inhabited. He had been getting a bit homesick recently, Timon had noticed. Not even antagonising antelope and bowling for buzzards had seemed to cheer him up these last few days. Timon settled for massaging his temples, watching the cub attentively take his first steps up into the jungle. Lion's were not jungle creatures, he was aware. They liked the flat grasslands, and disliked having anything over their heads. If there was a rock, than they would climb to the highest point of that rock and stay for hours, all out of pure spite.

Or at least that was what he had heard.

Timon pressed his fingers together as he schemed. He had to win this cub's loyalty. Preferably before they went to sleep tonight. Maybe they would pull an all nighter? Have a wild party by one of the big waterfalls about the summit? The frogs were always singing and dancing throughout the night. Would they still sing with the lion around? It's not like he was a natural predator or anything. He wasn't sure if those mountain frogs had even met a lion in their life, either.

Spending the day and night romping around would not only give them a greater percentage of earning the cub's favour, but also eliminate the risk of sleeping about the predator before they knew if they were safe or not. After all, when they met him he was attempting to kill and devour warthogs.

Timon ignored how petrified his brain was of the whole idea, a smaller part of him, a very, very small part had taken precedence. The sympathetic part. The cub was small, and thin, far too young and far too weak. And after the desperate attempt for a meal, he was probably badly bruised. Timon wondered what exactly the little guy had been through, to find himself here in this state. As his mind speculated, his eyes darkened.

* * *

_Simba, halfway up Mount Meru:_

His muscles screamed, but he pushed them on, ignoring their pleas. Simba didn't know what to blame his current sore state on, the climb up the mountain or the warthog attack, the journey across the sand or the race from the hyenas, or was it the hard labour Upweke kept him under, never satisfied with his effort?

Or maybe it started all the way back then, holding onto the branch of the dead tree with all he had as a thousand gnu stampeded below, close enough that their horn's raked across his tail.

"- mud bath, Pumbaa loves them, and there's a favourite of ours close by." Simba blinked as the little mongoose looking animal's words registered.

"I'm sorry, what?" The mongoose looking animal's ears fell, and he stopped in his scampering along the forest floor.

"I said, that after the bad fight with the warthog brute, we're all pretty sore. And I asked if you would care to join us in a soothing thermal mud bath."

Simba scrunched up his face in thought.

"What the heck is thermal mud?" He asked, also..._what the heck is a bath_? He knew his mother washed and _bathed_ him, but he had never heard of the word bath before. The pig's and rat's eyes lit up at the mention of the 'thermal' mud.

"Just you wait!" Exclaimed the pig trotting off at excellent speed. "Follow me!"

It was heaven. Odd and strange, but also heaven. He had to pull his legs out a few times until he got accustomed to the heat, but after that he melted into it. The perfect temperature. It smelt a mixture of composting rainforest and mossy rocks after the rains.

It smelt bad, was what he was getting at. But a weird soothing bad, the sort that mud smelled like as it bubbled, up from underground, heated by the hot rocks that lay deep down. At least that was where Timon said it came from. Pumbaa reckoned that it was gas that heated it, Timon rolled his eyes at that.

With his chin rested on a warm rock, submerged up to his neck Simba fell asleep. With a stomach full from all the bugs Pumbaa and the small one had hunted for him, it was a wonder why he hadn't fallen asleep on impact with the relaxing thermal mud. The bottom of the spring pool was soft and well slopped for the perfect comfortable position. His purrs were so loud sometimes the mud by his skin shivered a bit.

It was a good sleep. Deep and undisturbed. His dreams were good ones as well, where he jumped in and wallowed about in the mud spring, or sleep on rocks by the river filled with the tiny gemstone fish. Once he was trying to climb up the steep mountainside, and he would keep falling down. But it didn't hurt. Pumbaa would catch him, and he would laugh before racing up, and then falling back again.

When he woke, it was dark. His body was uncomfortably hot and clammy from spending so long in the mud. Simba tried to shift a leg to a better angle, but his muscles were so relaxed that he couldn't move. Closing his eyes again, he listened to the forest at night. The soft few bubbles of the mud springs, the wind through the trees, the creak and rustle of the rainforest and Pumbaa, digging close by, contently snuffling. The singing of frogs, and the high pitched hum of insects. Night birds, scampering about one another in the trees, whispering, the odd one calling out. Even the far off howls of a tribe of monkeys.

Sizable. Simba estimated as he listened to them howl together, before settling down. Whatever they had been excited about, now gone.

_It means no worries, for the rest of your days?_

_Yeah. Hakuna Matata. You'll pick it up soon enough._

* * *

_Simba, touring the Humid Jungle:_

Claws into the soft wood of the log, and with a great heave and a lot of strength, it was ripped up and rolled. Thousands of bugs squirmed against the sunlight. Timon jumped to them, already deftly picking out his favourite types.

"What a feast! Get in here quick kid before Pumbaa gorges them all!"

Simba climbed over the log and looked over the selection, trying to pick the yummy from the foul. It had taken him a long time to get used to the taste of bugs; everything about the meal was different to the bloody meat of beast. Some were hideously sour, others, creamy and sweet. Timon and Pumbaa were feeding him on a new world of flavours, and often he didn't even have a name for what he tasted.

Spicy, punchy, waxy, sugary, bitter...

Often Pumbaa ate them alongside some roots and mushrooms he had dug up earlier, Timon too ate little fruits. Simba longed for something of his own, to eat besides bugs. But maybe that desire would pass in time, just like his disgust at the stinky green beetles had.

Small birds picked at the bugs alongside them, some brash enough to sit upon Pumbaa's back. Though they never wondered too close to him. Fear remained for a strange predator like him.

* * *

_Timon 'Don't Eat Me!' Berkowitz, swinging over Crystal Clear Water:_

"It's quite easy, you learn fastest by doing. Just paddle."

"Just paddle, yeah right."

"Do it! Otherwise we won't take you down the mountain!"

"I ought to eat you for saying that, Timon."

"Don't you try that!" Timon wagged his finger around angrily from where he hung in the vines above the pool. Pumbaa was already out in the middle, floating on his back and spouting a little fountain of water when he felt like it.

"Look, if the warthog of all creatures can swim like a fish, than you should have no problems."

When Timon and Pumbaa had realised he had no idea how to swim, they suffered heart attacks on the spot. After they recovered, they then made it their life mission to teach him the wondered of swimming. An activity that then proceeded to give _him_ multiple heart attacks. Wallowing in a creak after days in the desert was one thing, swimming out into the deep and dark pools of the jungle was another.

Timon now had a vein throbbing in his head as he swung from the vines. He had been trying to teach the kid for days, and the closest the kid had come to swimming was walking around in belly high water. Threats seemed the only method that worked, at this stage. He knew how much the kid wanted to explore the plains where they had first met. Muttering something about 'I bet there's antelope down there...'

Well, there was, but Timon had been hoping that given long enough the lion's desire to hunt would go. That's why he had planned to stay up in the jungle for a least a year before coming back down for a look around.

In the end the whole thing was perfect leverage. If he learned to swim, they would go down the next day. So far it looked like they would never go down.

"Come on kid, what are you afraid of?" Often Timon asked this question in exhaustion, and the answer was always, _it was_ _unsafe... unnatural_. "Nothing scary out there except Pumbaa."

"Yep," Pumbaa agreed just before he started to dive to the bottom and grab mouthfuls of waterweed. The kid turned his head and ignored him.

"You're not going to drown for god sake!" No response. Timon massaged his temples, something he had done a lot lately since this kid came along. He needed to learn to swim, living in a place like this, not only because it wasn't any fun playing cannonball with him watching on from the banks, but also for Timon's own peace of mind. What happens if he did drown, just because they hadn't bother to teach him how to swim in this waterfall filled jungle. He had come to like the little guy.

No more mister nice guy.

"Well I guess we'll never go to the lowlands than." That made the cub look at him, his eyes narrowing.

"I'll do it tomorrow." He reasoned with a toss of his head. Oversized ears pinned back in an emotion Timon had come to realise was a mixture of anger and distain.

"You said that yesterday!" Oh god the throbbing vein was going to burst at this rate. How high must his blood pressure be? Dangerously high if the roaring in his ears were any indication. He gabbed his finger violently at the pool where Pumbaa wallowed. "Look kid, if you don't get in there and swim today, the deal is off. It's been days and you ain't gotten deeper than you ankles." The vines were swinging a far bit now, due to his rather violent hand gestures and frantic breathing.

"The water touched my belly that one time!" He sounded like such a child when he said that. Young and immature. Sometimes Timon forgot he was only a baby, considering he was twenty times his size.

"Oh wow. Amazing." Timon clapped for the kid, a perfect calm before the storm.

"_Get in the water!"_

"No!"

"Then no trips to the lowlands!"

"No!" The kid looked thoroughly pissed. He stormed off, stopping half way to turn around and shout "I hate you!" before running away into the jungle.

Ergh, why was being a parent so hard!

Wait.

Parent? Was he this kid's parent now? Some part of him had always assumed it was more of an alpha role. He was leader of the herd, and Pumbaa and the kid were his underlings.

But, yeah, who was he kidding? He was Pumbaa's best friend and now they had somehow become adoptive parents to a defensive and terribly young lion.

"Arghh, what are we gonna do now, Timon?" Whined Pumbaa as he swam to the bank. Timon hung limp in the tangled vines, defeated.

"Now... it's your turn."

"_Argggggggghhhh!"_

"Oh, come on!" Now _Pumbaa_ was acting like a child. Was it just not his day? For all his life he had been a worthless bachelor, and now he had a cub and a warthog with the brain capacity of a two month old. Said child-at-brain flopped on the ground, groaning and specifically avoiding looking in the direction the cub had gone. Timon swung from the vines, shaking his fist at the warthog and cutting loose a few choice phrases.

Timon's shrill bird like scream echoed louder than thunder as the thick foliage of the canopy beside him exploded. A creature, thrice – no, a hundred times his size leapt and raced along the old branch that Timon's vines hung from. The branches shook as the creature – golden monster – no, ah...

Timon felt ever more anger in his rising embarrassment. He cursed the kid, but wasn't quick enough. Without giving himself time to second guess, the kid jumped from the end of the branch and dived into the rippling pool, Timon's curse chasing him, but never having a chance to catch up before he barreled under the water. Timon watched the gold ripple among the dark blues of the pool's depths.

Timon and Pumbaa looked at eachother at the same time, Timon's eyes portrayed the soul of one who had given up, Pumbaa's were startled and worried. As time past, Timon raised an eyebrow at the warthog.

"And that is how one drowns, my dear Pumbaa." The warthog's eyes widen with a gasp, well, more of a squeal. Racing into the water, plowing it aside like a leopard through a crowd, Pumbaa dived down to where the cub thrashed, tangling himself in waterweeds.

Ergh, honestly.

* * *

_King Of The Pridelands, currently trying to ignore his Throbbing Headache:_

Nothing was peaceful in the Pridelands tonight. The insects roared louder than Scar's own thoughts, for the rains were coming to an end, and the last fury of life was in its stride as everyone sort to love and eat and dance while the grasslands were lush. Mufasa stirred more than usual, Sarabi paced around the dens. The pride was in mouring for those lost during the Gnu Execution. More nursed critical wounds, and with more sick and less hunters, he had politely introduced his hyenas back into the Pridelands.

Don't get him stared on the trouble they've cause. Not among the lions, the pride couldn't care less about the hyeans at the moment, but amongst themselves. Scar couldn't believe the amount of drama that comes with the grey hunchback beasts.

Which was why he was currently residing on a high rock, the leaders of the hyena sitting tense before him. Maybe attempted murder of one's own kin was acceptable in the shadow lands, but they were a part of the Pride now, and they had to answer for the fiasco of last night.

The vile old ladies watched him with their rotten yellow eyeballs.

"King," one slathered, "we apologise." The four exchanged glances among each other. Scar watched their dark forms move between the shadows as they paced anxiously below him. Twilight having just fallen, the land was in the grips of freashly laden night, and the predators were restless to hunt. Ever he himself felt the adrenaline of night, and he had never been much of a hunter.

Around the foot of his throne, Scar could make out the lead lioness of the hunting party stalking through the grass. Her limp was evident and causing her to labour, Scar observed her worried mate trailing her closely.

She would never return to her prime, not after the shattering blow a gnu had dealt her during the night of the execution. Scar's eyes traced the stars as his attention came back to the hyena matriarchs. He respected ants far more than he did them. And they the same for him. His personal minions he trusted, but theses ones...

One scrapped her claws along the ground.

A hyena, cutting groves in Priderock. Scar froze, warm wind tossing his black mane, a growl rumbling from him. The insects feel silent, and the matriarchs stiffened.

"It won't happen again," the youngest one amongst them assured him, referring to the attempted murder. "We weren't aware of this particular lion rule."

Lion rule. A terrible inconvenience he was sure. He had given them everything he promised them and more, and how did they repay him? The frustrated looks on their face spelled out what they were thinking. This was a reprime, and then he would send them on their way, no? Would he just get on with the scowling and let them go? Scar didn't bother to fight his wicked grin.

"It is a spit in my face, after everything I have done for you, taking you into my own pride." His eyes glowed, purple light turned to a void of black. He could hear their heart beats. "I will not revoke your pride land privilege, I will honour that promise I had made, all those moons ago. But I will not stand you to be a part of my pride any longer." Their eyes flashed in shock.

"You mean for the hyena's to leave?" A scar riddled one snapped. She spat on Priderock in disgust. "Who would hunt for your weak lionesses than?" In a blink of an eye, Scar pounced from the rock, landing by her, his massive paw striking her shoulder and sending her tumbling dangerously close to the edge. The others giggled in terror and scattered from his reach, and the one struggling to her feet cursed him.

Stalking over, she crouched down. As he came closer her neck craned to keep eye contact, her pride fierce. He coldly stared back into her horrified eyes. Blood dripped from her shoulder. She was lucky; he had been going for her face, but changed his mind in the last second.

"No. All other hyenas are free to stay. You four on the other hand, will set a lovely example to them, of what it means to _cross me_."

In the end, a quarter of the hyenas left the pride alongside the four matriarchs. Many of them he was delighted to see go. With the head severed from the body, Scar worried for the future of those who stayed.

Whatever. This was a far better alternative to actually keeping those poison hags around. They made his skin crawl.

Sitting upon his throne, Scar watched as a squad of his lions escorted the twelve hyenas away from Priderock and out to the further reaches of the grass lands. Someone was purposefully scuffing their feet as they approached him from behind. A very hyena thing to do.

"Oh man Scar, I didn't expect that. Whaddya doing man? I thought you hated us, and now you could have just started your own goddamn demise over me." Scar dwelled on her words for a moment, before roaring into the night. Every lion who heard the booming declaration of their king added their own to his, as they had always done since the beginning of time itself. The shapes of the hyena fraction quickened their pace. Scar glared after them.

"If they do try such a thing, then it will be their demise, not mine." Scar scowled at Shenzi as she nervously looked around, the roars unsettling even her. The wounds from her attempted assassination still remained, red and raw. Scar glanced at her hardly swollen belly.

"I hope those cubs are worth it, Shenzi, after the trouble they're causing." She chuckled at his words, a genuine one. "We call them pups, Scar."

"Not even born, and they're already given me the biggest headache of my life." He grumbled through clenched teeth.

"Even bigger than your marriage problems?" Someone chuckled from behind them.

Scar snapped around to glare at Banzai, who was reclining a few meters away with a dozing Ed at his side. He hadn't sensed them. Maybe he was getting slack.

"Hey, boss?" They all giggled at the familiar sound of Scar grinding his teeth.

"Don't get me started."

* * *

_The King Of The Pridelands, Many Days Ago:_

The grass rustled from a small breeze, but nothing else. Scar lay, still and silent, crouched against the cool pride land soil. Every one of his senses burned from being attuned so much, but he remained highly keen.

A breath, a drag of the paw, a scent on the twirling wind. He had never been much of a hunter, but he was a _lion._

But they were good.

Softly, Scar inched to his feet. Drifting through the grass, swaying with the breeze, he moved downwind.

Ten minutes later, after meretriciously moving without a trace through the grassland, Scar spotted one. And, lucky or unlucky, he wasn't really sure. It was _that_ particular one.

Zira.

She and her sisters had arrived on the Pridelands half a moon after the Gnu massacre. They were from a pride that had no name, nor any royal hold. Just a gang of lions that had carved out their own domain along the hard Southern edge of the Wastelands. From the speech she had presented him with, it had been her grandmother who made it, her mother who grew it, and it was her intention that she be the one who finally gave it royal hold. Office. Recognition. She had been quite adamant that word of how he _ruled_ piped her interest a great deal... Scar knew what she meant by that. They were a hard pride, forged in hard ways. She wouldn't know a lick about the circle of life, or give a single shit about her prey. Within minutes of meeting her he had decided that her proposition of marriage to him, _him_, was fool hardy.

It was true all marriage propositions had dried up after the Gnu Execution. All wary if he would be a lion to honour pacts, and unwilling to entrust their daughters into the bed of a king who was shaping up to be big and bad. Zira's propositions were, well, she knew how to bargain, he would give her that much.

She came with three of her own sisters, a niece and an unrelated lioness who had joined their pride many, many years ago. They would hunt and give all their kills to his pride, never taking a bite for themselves, to prove their loyalty. They would share all the hunting techniques of their pride, honed for generations in a terrain long considered unlivable. And most of all, something he had figured out in shock, as she rose from a deep bow, her eyes burning him all over. She was here to seduce him in any way she could.

Which was a heart stopping realisation for Scar, who had never had a lioness look at him let alone _smoulder_ as she dose.

They had been here for five days, and after much hustling from his own lionesses that he just _had to see them in action,_ he had agreed to partake in the ancient initiation game of hide and seek. None of the pridelanders had lasted more than five minutes against them, but Scar guessed that he had been out here for nearly twenty. He wasn't good at doing many things, but he was damn good at going unnoticed. Or they were going easy on him because he was the King.

Either one flattered him immensely.

Zira changed direction, bringing Scar out of his thoughts. He crawled on his knuckles through the grass, attempting to wedge himself were it was thickest, down in a buffalo sized dip. Settling down, Scar waited for her to find him, or walk right past.

He closed his eyes and listened to the slightly different sway some of the grass had, and the slightly orgasmic smell she had to her that lay beneath the smell of her homeland. Scar did not know if he was the only one to pick up on this strange scent of hers, or if it was because she was initating such a relationship with him that he began to notice. He didn't know, he had never been in such a relationship before. Feeling a bit like a trapped mouse as she came closer and closer, Scar snapped his eyes opened and stared coldly at her as her face emerged inches away from his own.

Her eyes widened a fraction in shock before she purred his name. So perhaps he had been truly hard to find.

"Zira," he replied curtly, though it actually sounded quite throaty since he hadn't used his voice for awhile now and... oh dear...everything about this lionesses and this situation terrified him. She lay down with him, they were almost nestled together in the dip. He swallowed his spit and tried to act undisturbed. Project aloofness, be aloofness, you are aloofness.

"I called my girls off awhile ago, I wanted to find you all myself. To prove to you my skills. Leader against leader." Scar thought that was a bit of a stretch, comparing the likes of her leadership position to his. She raised an eyebrow as she studied him, lazing in the grass. "Though I must say I never expected a lion to be anywhere near as good as you at stealth." She rumbled in laughter, and he felt it where their fur brushed.

"Not many skilled lions where you're from?" He smirked, maybe if he just imagined she was one of those stinky hyenas he could snap out of it. A smile of sadistic pleasure came about her face in response to that question.

"They eat more and do less, in my pride we chase them off once they fail to bring home a kill every quarter moon." She shifted her weight an inch, so that now their sides pressed together. "But you are quite an amazing specimen."

Yeesh. He felt like he was being dissected and his genetic potential counted. He may have been jealous and depraved enough once to attempt the murders of his brother and nephew, but that was moons ago. It felt like a life time, like another lion's thoughts. Like he hadn't been of the same mind he was now. This Zira lionesses reminded him of his darkest times. Maybe there was something tantalizing in that. But there was also something unsettling.

During his ponders, back in the real world, Zira had decided to get straight to the point. She leaned into him, nuzzling her face into the crook of his neck. Scar stiffened, brain frozen, soul departed. A lionesses was nuzzling him. A very attractive lioness was all over him. She was currently pressed up on him like it was a matter of life or death. She pulled away an inch to stare up at him. Scar found it physically painful to look down into her eyes.

"I'm going to be frank, King Scar."

"I think you already are." He meet her eyes for the sake of delivering that line to perfection, and then found it physically painful to tear his eyes away from her. This was a hopeless situation.

"I have never met a lion who turned me on like you, just the scent of you makes me want to scream and claw at your eyeballs until you hold me down and take me."

How's that... what... god... that's rather frank indeed...

She waited, watching him, expecting him to react like any other lion would, even if it costed them their life to complete it. However Scar had a secret weapon that was currently coming in very handy when it came to Zira.

Virginity.

So even though he most definitely did want to, the fear of not knowing how one _exactly_ did was enough to give him a strength that good kings had lost kingdoms over simply because they had not posses such a hesitation.

Say something! You're just staring at her like a land locked fish!

"Flattering..."

Anything but that!

"I'll keep it in mind,"

Leave! Leave before you screw it up even more! Fool! Absolute fool!

And so he left and mopped about in his old home in the shadow lands. The area was now deserted of any life, the hyena clan gone, and so it was just him, his frustrations and sheer, pure mortification.

Eventually when he returned under the cover of night, he dealt with the incident like the mature King that he was.

Pretending it never happened, and never looking directly at her ever again.

* * *

_A Strengthening Soul, Swimming Through Darkness:_

Billowing dust, constant thunder, black shadows racing over him, looking among them.

Simba.

He didn't know who that was, but he knew how it felt to cry that name. His throat tore apart, and his heart was cracking into splinters, it beat so fast and loud he thought it might burst through his flesh.

Green eyes, reaching out to him, claws scrambling to hold, falling, screaming, hitting the tide, and the shadows crumbling beneath him. Those behind pouring over, trampling him and their herd mates, screaming.

Screaming.

His own screams.

Actual screams.

He leapt to his feet, but it was only a twitch, darting across his skin. Eyes roved underneath closed lids, looking among the shadows for light.

Rafiki lay his old hand on Mufasa's temple. The muscles were twitching, his eyes were searching, his heart was quickening back to normal pace, and his breathing was louder with each hour that past.

Soon.


	6. The Endless Round

The Endless Round

_Simba, rapidly regretting coming down from Paradise:_

The hush of a hot afternoon seeped through the forest, across the lowlands and into the distance like a blanket of fog. Simba lay hidden under a floor of bracken, soaking in the shade. Sweat made his fur stick, and his panting was so frantic his body rocked. Across the grassland, under a large tree, Timon waved frantically to get his attention. His sensitive hearing picked up the faint cry of _Oi kid._

He had told Timon and Pumbaa his real name months ago, and to his relief not a hint of recognition flickered across their faces. As far as they were concerned, he was just a common lion from the surrounding plains with a past complicated enough that they were content not knowing.

They still tended to call him kid more than anything else, though.

Timon started jumping up and down, screaming louder and louder. Simba rose to his feet like a rolled hippo – angrily and with difficulty – and slinked away from the ferns and across the shredded grass. The hot sun burned his exposed golden hide, encouraging him to pick up the pace and jog between the two shady salvations.

Today had been a bit of a rude shock for Simba. The last five months of his life had been spent on the summit, where the nights were cool and the days pleasant. He spent his time swimming beneath waterfalls, dozing upon the soft mossy forest floor, constantly full and content from feasting on the banquet of bugs.

He had been excited about coming down to the lowlands. The last time they had gone, the rains had still been around, so the grass was green and thick and the sun sweet. He remembers racing along the lake's sandy bank, water flicking up and soaking him as he galloped in the shallows. He had never seen so much water in his life. He had tried to run around the entire thing, but gave up after ten minutes. He thought about swimming across it, but Timon had screamed at him that if he started drowning, the only ones rushing to grab him would be the crocodiles.

As he dipped into the shade, Timon jumped from Pumbaa's back to his with a nimble leap, swinging his arms as he tried to keep balance on Simba's much more narrow one.

"Took your time." Timon muttered as he pulled dead fragments of leaves from Simba's sweaty fur.

"I'm a lion, not a cheetah." He grumbled while walking slowly, trying not to tip Timon off.

"These days you're more of a warthog than anything." Timon slapped the tip of his ear, making Simba grunt and shake the tiny animal off him. Timon fell to the ground swearing, and picked himself up with a glare. "You need a bath, piglet." Simba chose to respond to the provocation maturely, by swiping Timon with his tail. The tiny angry creature spluttered as he tried to remain his balance. Pumbaa had been giving himself a dust bath at that point, but stopped to look up and proclaim dramatically.

"My son, finally embracing his true nature," he even threw in a few sniffles.

Simba turned his back on them, shoving his nose into the air. "Shuddap," he grunted as he licked some dust from his chest, though it smudged more than cleaned, and it tasted horrid. Timon and Pumbaa threw themselves to the ground laughing as he tried to spit some of the dirt grains out of his mouth.

With a shake, Simba walked away from them and up to the tree. He stretched up, digging his claws into the rough bark and closing his eyes to listen to the satisfying cracks and splinters.

He had grown a lot during the dry season, with time and food enough to get back to a healthy weight, and with his sores and infections healed, his body rapidly grew to the point where Simba would reckon that he was in prime condition. But that might be because he hadn't seen an actually predator for a whole season, and maybe comparing himself to a sleepy warthog and a jumping tick wasn't the best way to evaluate his size. He had doubled in size - no, tripled. Sometimes he even wondered if he had _quadrupled_. He was already starting to forget how big the lions of his pride were, only that his tiny paw sunk deep down into his father's footprint and fuzzy details of rubbing by his mother's leg.

Simba put those memories out of his mind; focusing on how good it felt to stretch, and how his skin felt where the sweat and dirt had dried. He really could go for a swim right about now.

They made their way down to the lake before the sun rose, so as to beat the crowds and save Pumbaa from a nerve racking and embarrassing experience. The lake was not as he remembered. It used to shimmer in the sun, with flowering mats of water weeds drifting along its surface and hundreds of birds floating on top. What Simba gazed upon now was an over glorified wallowing hole, shrunk in on itself. The land around was trampled and dried into ripples of hoof prints that jabbed and twisted his ankles as he walked over them. The soil was turned white by the herds and flocks who had spent days roosted by the water, their sun bleached dung making a rough mat over the dust. Dust and tiny inspects swirled above the feces, and when the first rays of sun caught them, it almost seemed there were more of them then there was air to breath. It was, unpleasant, to say the least. It tasted of slushy mud, not sweet like that from the summit, and not like the rich river water from the Pridelands. Not even like the alkaline cave water from the wastelands.

They sought out a good spot to watch the sunrise, and Timon and Pumbaa stretched out in the dirt, while Simba climbed high up into a nearby tree. He spent his time bathing, always a happier cat when dried and cleaned until his coat shimmered. From up high he had the perfect view as the sun climbed. With the revival of heat, the wind picked up as well. Instantly Simba smelt it. A kill. It was big too, bloody and nearby. Timon and Pumbaa didn't seem to notice.

A memory of a conversation flashed over his eyes, where Pumbaa was telling a joke that ended in him being distracted by a dragon fly. Timon raising a skeptical eyebrow as he cleaned his face of orange beetle guts.

_Listen kid, I'm not an idiot, I'm a realist, the world ain't all showers and flowers. One day you're going to outgrow bugs, and you're going to start hunting. And let me just get this over with and say that neither me or Pumbaa take any offence. A lions gotta do what a lions gotta do. Like we say, Hakuna Matata, it's no use fighting the circle of life._

That had been the first time he had heard Timon talk about the circle of life.

_Circle of life? You know about it?_

_What?_

_...what?_

_I just know about it like a phrase, you know, 'don't fight the circle of life, you'll just get squished' and stuff like 'what goes around comes around'. I mean, I was taught about the food chain, and warthogs like Pumbaa are taught survival of the fittest._

_Oh...well, I was taught that when we die our bodies become the grass, and the antelope eat the grass, and we then eat the antelope. And so we are all connected in the great circle of life._

_Fascinating..._ Timon had rubbed his chin, a focused expression deepening his frown. _But incorrect_.

Simba tilted his head to the side, _How so?_

_Have you ever seen a dead body? Come on, you're a lion, or course you have. And your pride should have seen plenty of dead bodies, they should know better. Carcasses don't become grass. Bah! _Even Pumbaa joined in, adding his own_ 'bah!'_ Timon had started strutting up and down the forest floor, a twig under his arm as he marched; chopping his hand against his other palm every time he made a point.

_I eat the bugs, and the bugs will eat me. That's my second motto. You get devoured by flies, and the maggots, and the worms, along with the vultures and all those birds, they eat you all up! The hyenas break you bones into tiny pieces. I mean, their shit fertilizes the grass. But that means you become shit before you become grass._

_The circle of life is complicated, more complicated than my father bothered to explain to a young cub. I'm sure it was simplified for me._

They had been quite after that, it was the first and last time Simba had ever mentioned his father.

In comfortable silence they watched the herds come down to the lake, and as the crowds grew, so did the drama.

_May the rains come soon._ Simba pleaded, looking up to the bone dry sky.

* * *

_Maasi of the Thunderlands,Sister to the Thunder Chief, possible future Queen:_

She studied the moon, full and heavy. So much had happened. The last time the moon had been this big, well...

On the last _last_ full moon, she had been accompanying the princess south towards the Pridelands, under strict instructions from her uncle to get her there as fast as possible. Her uncle was desperate for an alliance with the powerful king, he bragged about his master plan all the time, with his young daughter Queen to the most powerful and frightening king since times bygone... well, we wouldn't have to worry about those damn leopards and the rouge prides that pressed around the edges of his slowly shrinking territory.

In her opinion, her uncle deserved to have the land ripped from under him, he was no chief, and no uncle of hers. He had forgotten that the last chiefs were killed for such greedy behaviour. He had forgotten the promises he had made, and why he had been elected all those years ago. His six wives was a testament to that, along with the growing grumbles in the pride. He would be safe while the pride ate well thanks to the coming of the gnu, but once they began their migration back to the Pridelands...

She prayed that the king refused the little princess, and they returned with no alliance. Even better, that the fearsome king declared war or something, offended by the prize offered to him. She listened keenly to the whispers in the trees on the journey; he had been sending lionesses away as often as he requested them. Some leaving with sour development in their wake. Was he flattering each one, taking them into his den, and then when he grew bored throwing them away? It was a possibility, but it raised the question of why he hadn't been ambushed and mauled yet. No many get away with scorning that many lionesses and live to tell the tale.

She had not been prepared for the fear she felt crossing into the Pridelands. She could smell the markings of the pride. They smelt strong. Why did the chief have to choose _her_ to accompany his 'most beautiful' daughter and her three lion guards? Sure, she was experienced, the best at going unseen and undisturbed. It was with her help they got here so quickly, with not one incident, but _honestly? _She was one of the most anti-him animals alive. She was the reason he suffered nightmares of his throat being slit in his sleep. Which flattered her.

Maybe her uncle hoped that she would be killed. She did have a bad habit of disrespecting lions of higher status than her, but that was an intentional habit, and she had no illusions about being rude towards the _king_. He slaughtered lord's who disrespected him, let alone a messily lioness with a dodgy leg.

For the first time in a long time, she felt sympathy towards the princess. She was uneasy, but what must the princess be felling? She was young, hardly out of childhood. A virgin facing the reality that if the king liked her enough, she could be married and in his den, him above her, within the hour. She had stopped then, and turned around to look at her little cousin. She was small, and her shoulders shook with every step. She did something no lion could believe. She licked her on the head, and promised that, if she didn't want to, then all she had to do was say the word, and she would fight fang and claw to get her out.

She thinks that the princess must have really believed she could save her. Which was about as foolish as her actual promise. It must be nice being that young and sheltered. Maybe in her mind, if her father feared this lionesses, than the lion king would have something to fear of her too.

Her dodgy leg ached when they finally made it to the base of the massive rock. It had been a hard, long journey to get here; they had left when the moon was growing, and watched it fill before slimming to nothing before growing again. Last night she had watched it, and judged this night to be it at its fullest. Twenty nine days it had taken them, they had _better_ offer them a nights rest before declining the princess and sending them back. Said princess was practically clinging to her side like a baboon to its mother, and she resisted the urge to shake her off.

She studied a male that sat by the base of the rocky tower. The rumours that the Pridelander's were some of the biggest lions in the lands was prove true when he got up to stretch. Interesting. Some of them were so golden that they glowed in the sun; she could see them, moving about above, their heads popping from everywhere as they peeked over to get a view of the new arrivals. The three guards were on edge, but her nerves were now honed to steel. She raised her chin and regarded the lion that had come down to meet them. Was this the king? No, this would just be some low ranking messenger. Or maybe a mid ranking ambassador? She was not sure how highly the Pridelander's valued her pride.

The oldest guard had take on the diplomat duties, since he was of the highest rank among them. They were lead up the hill, around the lionesses sun bathing on the rocks (some of which made the guards drool) and up a step that landed them on a large, flat plateau of stone. There were lions _everywhere_. Adrenaline coursed through her like gnu across a crocodile infested river, and that made her feel more watched and penned in then she actual was.

Her eyes landed on what had to be the king. He was reclining against a rock, relaxed in only the way pure confidence would create. He was massive. The biggest lion in the pride. Their escort went to the king's side, and even though he stood while the king lay, she could clearly see that the king was bigger, stronger and older.

Dear god, her little niece was going to be crushed and split in two. Even though she had been accused all her life of being a cold lioness, in her mind she had already decided that if the king insisted on taking her niece, it would be over her dead body. Unless the princess wanted to, of course, though she would caution like a weary aunt that she was, into waiting a few years until her body matured before starting to learn how to really enjoy a mate.

She didn't know what it was that made her look behind her. Maybe it was instincts learned from those five years she had run away and lived as a rouge, (curse this leg for making her return to the pride on her knees) maybe it was just an itchy sense of being watched. But she twisted her head to scan what was behind her, and there she noticed him. He was a handsome lion, hidden in the lean of a rock, easily looked over. She narrowed her eyes at him. Then he turned and his eyes met hers, and then they stayed.

Maybe he thought it was a staring competition for dominance or something, and that was why he didn't look away after eye contact was held _far _longer than acceptable. For her, it was because every muscle was frozen, and her brain was in meltdown.

If she was honest, she had never felt attracted to a male like this before. And he was obscured in the shadows! Sure there had been those hot flings when she was a rebellious young lioness. But, upon the soul's of her ancestors she hone-

_Massi,_ her niece had whispered in her ear, nudging her to get her attention.

_Huh?_ She was intelligent, she was strong, she was mature and experienced and she was not going to be affected by the fact she was in the presence of someone that scratched all her itches. She glared at her niece in frustration, before catching herself and smiling softly at the nervous cub. She would solicit the attractive male for sexual favours later; right now she had to concentrate.

The king was talking with the senior guard, making one of their most experienced fighters look like a shivering wreck. He looked in their direction, and asked for the intended. Her niece did not respond, not lifting one muscle to step forward, so she nudged her, which gave the cub enough comfort along with force to go up to the king. It looked a sight. The lions of her lands were much darker than the Pridelanders, and they had a more distinct pattern and colour difference between their underbelly and back. The princess was an ideal beauty of their lands, dark with lighter fur underneath and along with a black stripe down her forehead. She contrasted sharply to the king, with his golden coat and fiery red mane. It was almost a headache inducing clash. The king, who hadn't moved from his spot on the ground, regarded her kindly before apologising that she was just not acceptable. _Much too young,_ he reasoned. She breathed a sigh at the same time her niece nearly collapsed from relief. The guard reacted much more... violently. He started growling, how dare they suggest their most beautiful and radiant princess was not good enough, how dare they ask them to come all this way and turn them away after two minutes of appraisal. How dare they! At least a day of appraisal, nay, a week!

She was not paying much attention to what he said next, because the attractive male in the shadows was now trotting across the yard. She couldn't believe her eyes. Silky black mane billowing around him, earthy red hide, a massive male, just like all the others, but not brutish like them, more... she didn't know, her train of thought wasn't too on track right now. He walked right up to the king and bent down to counsel him. To which the king listened intently to. Why did that turn her on? Maybe because he looked wise and powerful?

_Thankyou hateful uncle for casting me away on this trip. How's the weather back there?_

Her and the other two guards observed the hushed meeting with intensity, for different reasons. When the senior guard started growling, her ears perked up in curiosity. Obviously he was under extra orders from the chief, and things were not going to plan. It struck her as weird, in that moment, that the King had not moved so much as to shift his weight, and that it was weird he would tolerate the male from the shadows to stand beside him like that, higher than him and in a more dominate position. Her niece snapped around with startling speed to stare at her, horror growing on her face. She looked back, trying to read what the cub was trying to tell her, urging her with her wide eyes. What had the handsome male just said? Why had everything changed so suddenly? Why was the senior guard speechless? She started to glare, not happy being left out of the know. The handsome male looked up at her, inquisitive, sparkling eyes meeting her glare and never shielding away.

_You want her?_ The senior guard sneered.

She had not liked that. The handsome male was sly, she could sense it, there was something wrong with this scene, she could feel it. The senior guard looked over at her, and in response to her glare, which intensified just for him, he smiled from ear to ear.

_Oi, Maasi, you lucky cat. _

She had started stalking over then, shaking the guards off her when they tried to hold her back. She wedged herself between her niece and the males, not even the prime male safe from her snarl.

_No_. She had growled, firm, sharp, scary. Her ears flat against her skull, and her tail slipping violently. She positioned her body better to shield her niece.

_You don't even know what it is._

His voice was raspy, he was looking at her with undivided attention - ancestors take her now.

_If _he_ is happy about it, then it's not going to turn out well for me._ She turned away from the hot male to glare at the stupid male. He took offence and swiped his paw down, claws extended, inches from her face. It was a common bluff within her pride, she flinched only an inch before swiping her own claws out in turn. What was also common within the pride was the knowledge that she rarely bluffed. He jump back violently, lips peeled back in a fearful snarl.

_Bitch_, he muttered, his pride bruised, and in front of such esteemed company as well. Her face softened to one of impassiveness, showing that she couldn't give less of a flying hippo's warted ass about what he had to say of her.

The King cleared his throat. A sudden sense of shame fell over her as she shifted with downturned ears to regard the king.

Had it only been a single moon phase? Only twenty five days ago? Now, though she was loathe to admit it out loud, she was in love. _Ancestors save me_. In the same time it took her to get to the Pridelands, she had managed to catch the eye of a male who she was equally interested in, and they went on to win each other over in such a easy fashion that she didn't even know how it had happened. Though she wasn't too happy that it took him three whole weeks to actually tell her _he_ was the_ king_. He had earned a swipe across the head for that. Rafiki was talking about when they would officially announce her as the queen, hopefully far, far in the future. It was intimidating thinking about how fast they were moving. But even that wasn't the reason she was out here, so scared she was shaking, the reason she couldn't get to sleep tonight.

She was counting down the days until Taka returned, her mate had been gone for three days, and was due back in two. She sighed at the thought of two more days, then sighed even deeper as she was reminded what was upsetting her so much that she had come to pace all night long around Priderock.

She had never been a maternal lioness, and had never really wanted cubs. She had completely forgotten the existence of such little creatures, and if it did occur to her briefly while dozing in the sun or being bathed by her mate as they relaxed by the cave mouth, she always disregarded them. It look time to fall pregnant, it took careful effort (right?), if she wasn't ready for cubs then her body would respect that (right?).

Right?

She felt like spewing. The night was hot and the crickets were loud, and the moon was full. She should have had her low time by now, but she didn't, instead when she stretched that morning three days ago, her nipples had hurt, and she had hissed in confused. Had she been bruised during the hunt of that buffalo yesterday? She smelt different too, she had thought it was because of the changing from being on heat to her low time, but it wasn't the same as a low time...

She turned around and vaulted up the side of Priderock, not caring for the usual paths, instead latching her arms over whatever edge she could find and pushing up with her hind legs. Racing up the steep steps, she ran to the mouth of the Big Den. Most lions had gone on the envoy with Taka, and the rest were out hunting, but one or two had the night off, and a pile of half grown cubs snored in a corner. She was scared stiff by the sight of them, but pressed on. She had to talk to Sarabi, she _had _to. The older lioness had been a mother before. She had heard stories of the little Simba, and one of the older lionesses called her mum, and that young male from the Lakelands was supposedly her grandson or something.

Like always, she found Sarabi resting protectively by her mate's side. She eyed Mufasa wearily. It's not that she didn't trust the male - she spent most of her time with the couple - heck she spent all of her days with the two. Since Mufasa moved slower than a snail, even with Sarabi acting as a crutch, the two rarely left Priderock, and she often found herself alone with the old king and queen, everyone out hunting or patrolling. The pride was busier than usual, with the cubs hungry and growing, a large chuck of the pride's time was spent taking them out into the lands and teaching them the ways. Soon they would be apprenticed out to whichever lion's skills best matched theirs, and the strain on the pride would lift to be deposited directly on the shoulders of a sorrowful few. Sarabi and Mufasa had laughed about it, apparently Sarabi had been considered to mentor one of the smaller boys, but she had declined. She spent her days by Mufasa's side, grooming him, feeding him, talking to him, helping him walk two meters to a sunnier patch. They seemed perfectly content simply being in each other's presence. She had wondered if she and Scar would ever grow old together. Back then there had been attraction between them, for sure, but love hadn't truly started to grow, and she had always been a highly realistic, if not a cynical lioness. Now, as she nudged Sarabi's shoulder and struggled to hold down vomit, she knew that they stood a good chance of lifelong love. They clicked, it was very strange. If only she could...just...not puke... all over her friend...

* * *

_A Spy, hiding in Priderock: _

Sarabi looked down at where Maasi sat with perfect regal pose. Excitement bubbled within her as she watched Scar approach, drawing close to his mate and nuzzling her. A moon ago she wouldn't have believed Scar capable of such love, but a moon ago they hadn't met Maasi. Sarabi didn't know what it was about her that had caught Scar's eye, but he knew how to pick them, she would admit.

Though that raised the question of why he mucked around so long with that horrid Zira lioness nearly five months ago. Scar had seemed happy to continue along whatever weird game the two were playing, it was only through Mufasa's counsel that he realised he had to turn her away. Back when Mufasa had only just awoke and was struggling to relearn how to talk, Zira had mocked his lisping and halted speech whenever know one was around. Maybe she thought Scar wouldn't mind her belittling his only rival for the throne, or maybe that Mufasa would never recover enough to tell anyone.

It had been the final straw for Scar, who hadn't taken kindly at all when Mufasa could talk competently enough to tell him.

_She is a sly lioness, would the pride benefit from a lioness like her?_

_No. It needs a trustworthy queen._

_Most importantly, she needs to have your trust. I know that you don't trust Zira, or even consider her kindly. She does have the ability to lead._

_She has the ability to manipulate, and seduce whoever she wishes, that is true, but rule fairly?_

_I never imagined you would be so picky Scar._

_Well I didn't have the gods speak through the bloody baboon and point me in the direction of my soul mate._

_It is strange, why they have not done so for you yet._

_Don't beat yourself up over it Mufasa._

The escort looked tired and ragged, and after embracing their loved ones, went into the Big Den to sleep and groom the day away. Sarabi stayed, discreetly watching as her brother-in-law and his mate continued to embrace. Mufasa was there too, flattening himself to the ground and peeking underneath the very rock she was peeking over. Would Maasi tell her mate of what she suspected? It was still early days, there was no way to be sure, but Maasi had seemed so sure... so upset...

Sarabi studied the pair, fantasying about what sort of little nieces or nephews they could make. Scar had filled out to be a handsome male once he stopped spending his days slinking around the borders and actually started eating at the pride's kills, and when in the presence of Maasi his constant smile (or smirk, depending on what sort of mood the _extremely _sexually active pair was in) made his face so much softer and pleasant.

Thinking back, that was probably why there were cubs on the way already. Maasi had been shocked, but honestly Sarabi had been half expecting, half hoping for this. It had been her and Mufasa who pushed Scar to continue his search for a mate so ferociously. Well, less like pushed and more like continued to organise without his approval. She and Mufasa had had many deep, long discussions about them, Simba, their future. Eventually, in time, they had decided that they wanted one last child. It had been a hard decision, but they felt like it would help the pride move on, and Sarabi hoped it could do something to ease the hole in her heart. The only hold up was that Mufasa refused to have a cub older than Scar's eventual heir.

They harassed Scar to find a lovely lady and produce a heir as quickly as possible. Which embarrassed him, and sometimes made him yell at them go away. Sarabi could not thank Maasi enough. She didn't think she had ever seen Scar look at a lioness like he did with Maasi, and he had seen all the beauties the surrounding lands had to offer.

They would space the cubs a year apart. Sarabi already felt broody thinking about it. It was beyond nice to have something to look forward to - to be_ excited_ about something again.

Obviously her little niece or nephew would be dark like their parents. Scar had that nice copper coat, and Maasi was more of a milky version of him. But she had the nice, soft white underbelly and neck, and her coat had more shades in it. Her ears had these sweet little dark dots on them, along with the classic stripe down her forehead that all her pride sported. That little niece of hers had had a really bold one, Sarabi remembered. And of course Sarabi prayed that the cub inherited their mother's pattern. It was the envy of all the lionesses, some muttered that she had to have a bit of leopard in her, but Sarabi knew it was much more detailed and barred than a leopards. More of a lion pattern. She had seen quite a few with bold patterns like Maasi's back in the Lakelands, where it was more common.

Hmm, yes, it would be a beautiful cub. She hoped Scar didn't freak out as much as Maasi did, that was, if she ever got up the nerve to tell him. If she knew Maasi well enough, the cub would be having cubs of its own before she got up the nerve to tell Scar about it. Mufasa seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

"She's not going to tell him," he grumbled. Sarabi rolled her eyes. "We should tell him," he suggested.

"We promised not to tell," Sarabi snapped, kicking him softly with one of the hind legs she stood up on, gripping the rock with her front two to keep balance.

"_You_ promised," he sulked under his breath. Sarabi snorted, and they both feel into silence as they focused on Scar and Maasi, who seemed to have fallen into a serious discussion.

"Can we go visit Simba today?" Mufasa asked her softly. A small smile grew on her face, she was happy he had asked. She felt like visiting her son too. Rafiki had made a beautiful memorial for Simba at the big climbing tree the cubs played on. Though they didn't spend much time there anymore, with them growing up and all. Rafiki had painted the tree in beautiful colours, and hung hundreds of those long streamers he made from grass all along its branches. It looked beautiful when there was a breeze, and the birds loved to play in it. The next generation of cubs will lose their minds when they see it for the first time.

She knows Simba would have loved it. He always loved exploring.

It had been a meditative exercise of Rafiki, the monkey said that there was many things to meditate on these days, and a lot to learn from the ancestors. The baboon seemed more confused and frustrated than mournful about Simba, which didn't offend Sarabi, it just perplexed her.

"Yeah," She looked down and watched as Mufasa smiled a very hesitant smile.

Mufasa's memory was very patchy after he awoke, some small things recovered, but large chucks were gone. His childhood he remembered with clarity, his relationship with her and some key moments of his life he could recall easily. But the last few years was blurry, he only remembered friends when they came to see him. He hadn't known who Rafiki was until the monkey had come into the cave and sat down with him. He had confessed that he remembered Rafiki from childhood, but couldn't connect Rafiki of childhood and Rafiki his good friend together. It was like half of the connections in his memory had failed to reboot.

He didn't remember Simba, and Sarabi knew he was deeply troubled by it. He spent a lot of his time asking her questions about their cub, and a lot of time sitting in some of Simba's favourite playing spots. But he never could really recall his own son.

Sarabi wondered if it was worse, or better that way.

While spying on Scar and Maasi, Sarabi noticed a young lioness coming in from the plains. It was Nala, proudly carrying a peasant home. She was young, but already honing her hunting skills, and showing signs of promise. She knew quite a few of the high ranking hunters were fighting amongst each other to win Nala as an apprentice. Emerging from the grass behind Nala was her sister, the gentle Berta. Surprisingly the other lioness had a kill as well. Berta was never much of a huntress, but maybe she was picking up some skills from spending so much time with Nala?

More likely it was Nala's second kill, and the creamy cub had gotten her sister to carry it back home for her. Sarabi chuckled as she saw some of the other cubs sniff at Nala's kill, curiosity in their eyes.

Simba, what would you have been doing, if you were still alive?

* * *

_Simba, crawling into a Rotting Corpse:_

"Look at this Timon!" Simba yelled from inside the hippo, chuckling when he heard Timon groan outside.

"No! It's disgusting. How do you lions consider this appealing? Maggot's work, I tell you, maggot's wor-" He was cut off by the sounds of retching.

_I think it smells alright._

Simba moved along the hippo's ribcage, pushing some half digested grass aside so that he got a better look at the lungs. The vultures and jackals hadn't managed to eat all of his insides. The heart was gone, and all the rich bits like the liver and kidneys were_ long_ gone, however some of the less nutrition, but still interesting stuff, remained.

"Simba! Oi, get out of there!" _Pfft, as if._

Simba tuned Timon and Pumbaa out as he grabbed a mouthful of lung. He tried pulling it out to show his hypocritical friend, who happily chewed on squirming worms but couldn't stomached a dead hippo. But the lung refused to budge. Simba didn't want Timon to miss out on a once in a lifetime opportunity to know what a lung looked like, so he dug his claws into the insides of the hippo and heaved, trying to break it free. There was no air down in the hippo, just gas and steam. Panting from a combination of the effort and the lack of oxygen, Simba turned around and jumped up out of the hole the vultures had made in the hippo's side, intending to catch his breath and make fun of Timon at the same time.

Instead Simba looked down at what appeared to be a sea of round black ears and skinny legs. If he narrowed his eyes he could just make out Timon and Pumbaa in the distance, arms flailing and kicking up a cloud of dust in their wake. Gees, some guardians.

"Woah! What are you!" Exclaimed a high pitched voice, at once seven (or was it eight?) pairs of eye were glued to him, some squealing or yelping at his sudden appearance.

"I'm a lion," he told the speaker, confused, didn't they know what a lion looked like?

"Whoah!" They all chorused at the same time, though one to the left cocked their head and muttered _what's a lion?_

"Is this your kill?!"

"Did you kill mister hippo?!" Before he had time to answer, they seemed to have assumed.

"Whooaahh!"

"So strong!"

"Teach me your secrets, master!" They all started howling and squeaking at the same time, jumping around like crickets. Simba tried to count them all, but it was impossible. Some sort of cub? No, puppies more likely.

"Are you a mutant cheetah?" Was it because he was covered in congealed blood that they were so confused about his identity?

"No, I'm a lion."

He watched as one took a running leap, trying to join him on top of the hippo corpse. He fell back on his bottom, and all his litter mates laugh-squeaked at him.

"You're lucky father isn't here to see that!"

"You're lucky mother isn't here to stop be from ripping out your throat!"

Simba looked on in horror as the two brothers lunged at each other, squawking louder than parrots as they wrestled.

"Are lions meant to look like you?" One asked from right beside him. Simba jumped and eyed the little pup, sitting beside him with inquisitive regard.

"I would assume so, yes." Simba told her.

Simba watched on with a sense of growing dread as the rest of her litter mates learn from her and climbed up the hippo's head first and scrambled up the incline of his body. It was like watching a forest fire surge towards you, just an unstoppable line of black and varying shades of yellow.

"Lions look weird," she huffed, scratching her ear.

"That's a matter of personal preference."

She stopped and seemed to think about what he had said deeply.

"What's _personal preferences _mean?"

Ergh.

* * *

_The King and his Current Lover, Upon the Flat Top of His Throne:_

The afternoon sun burned their exposed backs, but it was a pleasant and familiar sensation. At this time of year, her homeland would be experiencing thunderstorms every night, the herds would have arrived, and the great rivers she talked about would be gushing against their banks. She was used to being able to see the horizon - her pride ruled the largest, flattest grass plains in all the lands - but not from up high.

She rolled in her sleep, more restless than usual. She had been doing a lot of pacing as well, and often got lost in her thoughts while he was talking to her. Was she unhappy? Was she regretting her relationship with him? Scar sighed deeply, a frown worrying his face. He watched her sides rise up and down as she breathed, and the way her muscles sometimes twitched. Her coat shone a beautiful warm brown in the sunlight, and the perfect whiteness of her undercoat glowed. With her stretched out like this, outlines of her lean muscles were visible. Scar leaned over her and licked a patch of fur that had been ruffled. The muscles underneath shivered in reaction, and the lioness grunted, but she didn't wake up. Instead she finally relaxed, tension leaving her shoulders, and slipped away into sound sleep. Scar watched over her for a few moments, before turning to stare at empty air, his glare prepared for when three hyena heads appeared.

"Ah, there you are Scar." Banzi yipped happily, leaping up the last step and trotting across the plateau, half way across, he stopped and shivered, looking around him. Ed sniggered from back on the steps. "How do you enjoy this? I feel like the winds going to blow me away!"

The wind _was_ stronger than usual today, but it wasn't unsettling to Scar. Instead he preferred it, it kept the bite of the heat off the land, and he liked the feel of it throwing his mane around. Tenderly, Banzi kept walking towards him, this time with his whole body lowered and constant vigilant looks around him, like he would be able to catch the wind sneaking up on him. In contrast to Banzi's height phobia, two little pups raced through his legs, taking flying legs for Scar. Usually he would have side stepped them, but he was a bit too close to the edge, and didn't want to have to explain to an enraged Shenzi why her maniac pups had become nothing but black little splats upon Priderock. Even though it would probably be an improvement.

Of course their screams woke up Maasi, along with his snarl at them to _stop pulling his mane_. She snapped up in shock, her eyes passing straight over the black hyena pups, who blended into Scar's mane, and going straight to Banzi, who was slowly creeping towards them.

"Ah, you woke her up," Banzi exclaimed, "bad pups!" One snarled, the other jumped off Scar and raced for Banzi, running circles around him and yapping. They started chanting _throw him off the rock, throw him off the rock_. Banzi collapsed, pressing himself tight to the ground and bared his teeth at them.

"Brats!" He hissed, growling when the circling one starting darting in and nipping him. Scar felt a headache coming on.

"What do you want, Banzi?" He growled, shaking the sibling pup from his mane. He rolled across the ground with a little giggle, stopping a second to sniff Maasi's paw. The lioness acted like the pup was poison, yanking her paw away and curling her leg close to her body. The pup didn't notice, instead he howled and raced off to join his brother.

"I wanted to beg you to look after the brats tonight." Ed pleaded from his position on the ground as the tiny black devils circled and howled. Scar raised on eyebrow, not amused.

"Don't joke." He noticed from the corner of his eye as Maasi shifted uncomfortably, her eyes tracing the pups. Scar's frown came back onto his face. Were they upsetting her?

"Ed bet you would fall for it," Banzi grumbled as Ed started to giggle hysterically from the step. With a huff, the hyena growled. "There is a meeting on."

"Tonight?"

He really didn't feel like it, he just wanted to curl up with Maasi and have several rounds of passionate sex. Was that too much to ask? Could a lion not be left to spend time alone with his mate after five days apart? _God those five days had been hell._

"Yeah." Banzai confirmed. Scar closed his eyes and sighed, resisting the urge to snarl.

"Hmph. Fine. I might be a bit late."

"You're always late, ever since..." even though Banzi had caught himself before he said it, his eyes still drifted to Maasi, making it obvious what he meant. The pups had started running right along the cliff's edges, and Ed had come out to growl at them, managing to catch one in his jaws. Banzi got to his feet and went back to the steps, the other brother already following Ed and the trapped, howling pup down.

"Tonight then," he confirmed, then his eyes turned to Maasi, and he awkwardly nodded to her before disappearing. There was a minute of silence as they both listened to the yowls of the pups slowly fade.

"Were those his pups?" She asked, head titled to the side.

"No. Their Shenzi's, you met her before, the big alpha." Maasi nodded her head, a little frown creasing her brows together.

"She's a mother?" She actually looked more intrigued than shocked, her tail flicking as she concentrated on the place the hyenas had disappeared down. Scar wondered what she was thinking about.

"Yeah, caused a huge fuss when he got pregnant to. Half the hyenas wanted her dead. The father is from some creepy rival clan beyond the shadow lands or something, it's all really frustrating."

The fifteen hyenas loyal to Scar, or more appropriately, loyal to _Shenzi,_ had their own area behind Priderock where they dug their dens and dust baths in the ground. Apparently they were much happier with the new arrangement Scar and Shenzi and worked out together. Having them in the Big Den had just been weird for everyone. They were around, but the lions and the hyenas never really intermingled much anymore. Sometimes when there was a large kill, they would let the lionesses know, so as to show their loyalty, but nothing much else happened. With Mufasa awake they kept their distance, even as a crippled he struck fear in them. It was helpful that Mufasa had forgotten his grudge against the hyenas along with most things, but none were too keen of getting within ten feet of the King who had exiled them to the shadowlands. Sometimes Scar saw some of the cubs playing with the two pups, but all other interactions were strictly tense and formal. They were sworn guardians of the pride, and many had suffered serious injury due to their aid during the Gnu Massacre, so the pride knew they deserved to be there. They just couldn't get used to it. Scar wondered if Maasi had any grudges against the hyena. She never seemed to react so violently to them before. Maybe it was just the small ones? Maybe it was just small things in general?

Scar could stand the pups, and he could stand the older cubs. But he didn't know how he would go with young cubs. After Simba he had felt chills whenever those little lions had come close to him. He felt chills just thinking about it. Memories of Simba by Mufasa's body, his claws scrapping the rock where the little cub had just been, the sound of his crying, the rasping breaths, the feeling of his claws finding purchase in his nephew's back, before gravity ripped him off his claws and sailing down into the thorns.

Everything went cold in Scar, he couldn't breathe. He buried his face into the crook of Maasi's neck, trying to focus on her scent and the feel of her, and ignore the fear that crept into him whenever he remembered those times.

"Hey, Taka, what's wrong?" She whispered, both concerned and confused. He loved the way his name sounded in her voice. He loved hearing it over and over again, in casual passing or whispered softly like now. He especially liked when she screamed it.

He was glad he had introduced himself to her as Taka, and made sure she remembered to call him that. Maasi purred as he started to groom her fur, her eyes shut in pleasure.

It was always hard to leave her. Usually he tried to exhaust her before watching her drift off into sleep. He didn't want her waking up in the middle of the night and realising he wasn't there. She hadn't known about this meetings until Banzi went and mentioned them in front of her. He appreciated that she wasn't asking questions, but he knew they were on the tip of her tongue, just waiting to be asked. She respect that some things he wasn't ready to tell her about. And this was one he had never wanted her to know. How did he go about explaining everything he had done? No even he forgave himself for half of what had happened. He would just lie and act, like he had done all his life, and pray nothing fell through the cracks which she was slowly prizing open.

It was one of the worst plans he had ever had, and he knew it.

* * *

_The Dark Forces, Inside A Volcanic Spring:_

"He's chosen a mate?" It was one of the rare times she didn't manage to pacify her emotions, and looked visibly shocked. The monkey sitting before her adverted his eyes, like he knew he wasn't meant to see what he did. His fingers played with the dirt on the ground.

"Yeah, and the druggers refusing to get within a thousand yards of him after he caught a glimpse of her." The monkey pulled back, his tongue darting over his lips. "Apparently there is some history between them. He said she needs to be out of picture before he even reconsiders working for you again."

He held his breath as she sat stoically. She had instructed him that there was to be no disruptions, and this was a major one no matter how you looked at it.

"No loss," she huffed, "we've got another."

"He's the best there is, losing him will only delay our plans more. I advise you to get rid of this new lioness as soon as possible." He had been going to say more, but her glare burned when he glanced up.

"And we will," she snapped. "And we've got the _second_ _best_ working outside as we speak."

He had been about to object, but wisely chose to duck his head and leave. She was tense tonight; plans had been unraveling through her hooves ever since they took Scar off the drug. He was more competent that she had ever given him credit for, and the underestimation was hurting her. Some plans had been set back_ years_. Scar was cutting the heads off snakes all across the Pridelands, and even venturing into the otherlands. The recent mission he lead into the shadowlands had been more damaging than she cared to admit, and had been in a cut throat mood ever since she received word from her ravens. For a long time she had been at the top, her web was spun to perfection and moving in for the killing blow. Then she made the mistake of thinking Scar would be more useful off the drug, more passive and lazy, better conditions for her to usurp. For a week the withdrawal nearly pushed him to a point of madness, the Gnu Massacre was legendary. It was said that Scar himself killed six bulls on his own that night.

He walked out of the cave system, carefully scoping out the area. He leapt up onto a rock ledge, and sat on his thoughts, watching the new drugger work over the freshly killed warthog.

There was a big difference between the best in the business, and the second best. He had a bad feeling about this, but she just wasn't open to suggestions. Putting Scar back onto drugs he had spent five months off and over a year on, was a procedure best left in trusted hands, not this 'second best'. Where did she pick him up from? The wastelands? He looked like a wasteland creature, all scaly and bloodshot. Everyone knew the best came from up north, that's where all the poisons _grew_. He felt like burying himself in a hole. Whatever would result from this night, he guaranteed it to be messy and violent. This smelt like another miscalculation of the queens, especially with the unknown lioness in the mix. If the best drugger in all the lands was running for the hills, he wondered if they should be taking the hint and following his lead.

The most unholy chorus started up, and he knew without looking up that the pride hyenas had just arrived through the steam, and already the others were jumping to get at their throats. It bewildered him how something which had once been one pack, could split to become two that so viciously hated each other you couldn't keep them in the same room. He watched as Shenzi lead them through, growling at any cousins that got too close to her. He had never trusted her, too loyal to Scar. They say her cubs were born strong and healthy, two midnight sons rapidly gaining their sand and muscle. His eyes strayed to where the old leaders circled, saliva dripping from their jaws. She would be dead if it wasn't for Scar, that he knew. He would bet that as soon as the pups grew up enough to venture out, they would find themselves assassination within hours. The feud was already bloody, a few hyenas from each side caught alone and mauled to death on the Pridelands.

But the hyena's business was a hyena's business, and he was just a monkey. A thousand good monkeys had tried to understand the politics of the hyena, and all had died with hopeless hearts.

A raven flew down and into the caves, calling out the alarm as he went. Scar was on his way. The drugger had cleaned up any trace of himself the instant he heard the pride hyenas coming through the steam, and now the warthog sat innocently, guarded by four young male monkeys. He frowned at them. What was the alpha thinking, bringing them along? This was turning into a comedy of errors. With a weary shake of his head, the monkey watched as the main coalition members started to unfold and go inside the caves. When the alpha appeared from wherever he had been watching from, he exchanged a worried look with him.

So the alpha was feeling uneasy as well. It had never been the monkey's intention for things to get like this, and he hoped the alpha was planning something to settle it all. Scar's ability to throw them all into panic, whether he was aware of the big picture or only knew of the small cuts he was making on the ground, was remarkable. In five months the scheme had sprung more holes than his wife's handmade baskets, and they stood at the cross roads of making it more water tight than it had ever been, or watching it all backfire into their faces. Violently.

He twirled the fur of his chin, and scanned the night, wondering when Scar would appear from the tall African grasses. He was in the middle of studying the slimming moon when the lion finally appeared, a quiet shadow slipping across the ground. He almost didn't recognise him. For the first time in his life he could see the resemblance between the two royal brothers. No longer did his bones poke through his skin, or did his hair look so ragged. He couldn't wait for that idiot buffalo's reaction. For a long time Scar had been a whispy rag, a high strung basket case in everyone's minds. It was only now as he looked down that he realised how much the lion had been wasting, how deteriorated the drug had made him, how clouded his eyes had been. They shone sharply, with such cruelly intense intelligence that it left him ashamed he had ever thought of this lion as a joke.

The monkey's chattered excitedly as he came over, and the pride hyenas who had taken up guard of the cave mouth yipped in greeting once they sensed him.

"A meal, for you, the queen had it killed especially." The queen always had meals readied for him especially, so it wouldn't have struck Scar as odd. But the lion raised his eyebrows at the warthog. It sent a little lightning of fear through his heart.

"Such a tradition keeper, that old goat," Scar chuckled, before walking past it.

So the drugger didn't know how to make it smell irresistible. Already the queen was taking damage from the loss of the original. He knew it was going it be this bad, but he wasn't happy it was actually being proven before his eyes. He watched as Scar disappeared into the tunnel. The original had been drugging Scar for over a year, he grew to know exactly how to entice the lion, and what dosage was best to cloud him, but not poison him.

He sat outside and worried for three hours, diligently paced around on his knuckled, glaring at the hyenas who tried to steal bites of the warthog, and watching the stars. What would his father think of him? He was just staying loyal to the alpha, like a good monkey, but he had realised for the first time tonight if loyalty to the king was more important in the long run.

When they emerged, the queen took one look at the untouched warthog before starting up a light conversation with Scar. She went to stand beside it.

"Don't eat it if you want, Scar, have your hyenas eat it for all I care, but I suggest thinking about what we discussed on a full stomach. It could lead to gut pains if you pace too much on an empty one."

He watched Scar study the warthog. There had to be some subconscious want to eat it. Something in there must remember how much relief the meals the queen provided for him gave him. He had been an addict, and these meals his drug. There had to be some thought in the back of his head that he had always been so _content_ and _happy_ after her meals.

Sure enough, when the rest filed out, he sat down to chew on it, his eyes watching the night with contemplation.

_Say goodbye to that sharp wit,_ he thought sadly as he watched on. Scar allowed a few of his hyenas to join him, and together they polished most of it off within minutes. Then they disappeared into the grass, two of the youngest hyenas were fighting amongst each other for who got to carry the skeleton.

He would have to talk to the alpha, and soon. Because he was suddenly starting to wonder if they had laid their children across the wrong back.

* * *

_Maasi of the Thunderlands,Sister to the Thunder Chief, Carrier of The King's Heir:_

He always responded when she said his name, sometimes she could just _feel_ him respond to his name on her lips, but something had changed. He got angry at the name. His hot breath fanned against her neck, and she stilled, listening to his breathing.

It was wrong. He was breathing wrong. He was being rough, and so far she had been happy to play, but it was all wrong. He had come home semi-Taka, and within the last half an hour changed into a different beast. She knew Taka would have communicated more, she knew he liked for her to be in charge. Whenever she moved to respond to him, he growled. If she made a noise, he bit her. This was not how Taka liked it, something had changed. He was being violent just for the sake of violence. Maasi twisted to get away, but he roared, making her ears ring. His paws slapped to her sides quicker than she could think, and his claws sliced deep into her sides.

This was not happening. This was not her lover. Something had happened to him at that meeting. She threw her body up, her skull cracking against Taka's jaw, and twisted her head around to bare her teeth at him. They competed for who could roar the loudest for two seconds, as he slowly dragged his claws down her ribs, cutting long lines in her flesh. In one slick motion she threw him off her and onto his back, and racked her own claws across his soft underbelly before he could recover and grapple her back to the floor. She went for his eyes next, always a soft target. He tried resuming the mating, but she was adamant, as she twisted again from him and pressed herself against the cave wall. She would not allow him to finish inside her. She didn't want whatever was in his system to enter hers. She knew there was only a slight chance of such a transfer, but she didn't take kindly to chance, no matter how slim.

"Taka!" She snapped, her roar making him freeze. "What have they done to you?" She tried to find her lover in those eyes, but what used to be brilliant green, was now nothing but clouds, his eyes bloodshot and yellow.

She had seen enough of poisons to last her a life time. They were widely used up north where she came from, especially among the rouges. Druggers and Assassins. She could see it clear as day.

Like hell she was letting them get away with this. He was obviously just freshly drugged, and it was at its most potent. In the morning he would have settled down, and now the drug would be making him sleepy. She watched as he struggled to keep his eyes open, even tilting a bit to his side.

She hated this.

Quietly she left the cave, her lover too out of it to notice. the deteriorating stage kicking in. As she emerged into the night, the screams of the hyenas was carrying along the wind.

So the probably meant that the guards that went with him were tagged too.

She returned midday to a very angry Scar. But she smiled and nuzzled him, which pacified him somewhat. She told him she just had to get some space after last night, and he seemed to understand. He apologised and promised never to do it again, but she knew it would. Every night after those strange meetings, it would happen. She had tracked his scent back to the place, but the sulphur and steam in the air made it impossible to tell who he was meeting with. She didn't dare break from the cover of the grass. There had been ravens roosted in the trees, and she had lived long enough to know every eye counted.

After that Scar had wanted her by his side all the time. He stopped leading missions out and responding to his messenger birds. Instead he moped around, growling at anyone that came within five meters of her, and slept mostly. An aggressive that dissolved into a depressant. Expensive. It was good, but not the best, his eyes had cleared of blood shot, but if it had been who she originally suspected, there would have been no physically signs at all. That stinking rat prided himself on his work, and this didn't carry his signature.

After a few days of careful planning, she decided that all this sitting around was driving her insane. When she told Sarabi that she would be gone for a few days, and to keep an eye on Taka for her, the lioness had nearly cried.

"What! You can't go, not in your condition, and you'll be out there all alone! At least take another lioness along." She had even tried to bar her from exiting the den. Maasi sighed and tried to be patient.

"Please Sarabi, I was just imagining things. I don't feel it anymore. Besides, I can handle myself, and you're not, in fact, my mother." The older lioness had saddened as she denied the notion of cubs.

"Maasi, I know your scared -"

"Sarabi, please, don't act like you know me. Because you _don't."_ Shouldering past Sarabi, she left Priderock before the lioness could think about chasing after her.

First stop, the Wastelands. Those ravens had mentioned something _very_ interesting about a hyena, a kudu and a little lion cub.

* * *

AN: (nervous laughter)


	7. (What's In A Name?)

Thought Of Changin' My Name (What's In A Name?)

_Simba, by the Rotting Corpse:_

The intense heat meant that the hippo rotted quickly. Its stink attracting everyone on the lowlands, and soon Simba and the pups were pushed out by swarms of vultures and jackals. Slinking away from the vicious fighting breaking out, Simba groaned as he heard eight sets of paws trotting along behind him.

"Don't you have a den to get to?" He licked old blood off his nose, and picked up his pace until it was a stalking stride. Still, the pups trotted in his wake, some starting to surge up and nudge against him.

"Mother and father left to find food, and they said it would take them _days_." One more colourful pup yipped. The brother beside him enthusiastically leapt over a clump of thistles that could have easily been side stepped, and those behind him rushed between each other to outdo him, sending dust flying along with squeals.

He was starting to appreciate how quiet it was on the summit, just him, Pumbaa and Timon. No herds, no vultures, no pups. He looked to the sky as another battalion of vultures came soaring in from the west; he studied each, wondering if Sili was amongst them - though he knew he wouldn't be able to tell, even if she was.

Full from his feast on the hippo, Simba went about searching for a safe patch of shade to sleep in. Pumbaa and Timon would find him soon enough, in their own time. He skirted around the outside of an alert antelope herd, who were busy watching the commotion on the swarmed corpse with wary eyes and stiffly upturned ears.

"My name is Moja," said the jumper. He raced to the particularly colourful one's side and tugged on his brother's ear. "This is Mbili, and him over there is Tatu, and next to him is Ne, the pup pinned down is Tano, and the one pinning him down is Sita, and one your other side is Saba, and the black pup is Nane." Simba kept his eyes straight ahead as the pup talked, his frown deepening.

"Yeah, that's great, but I'm not going to remember that, like... at all."

Maybe he shouldn't have been so friendly back at the corpse. He had to show _someone_ the lung, and they had been a very appreciative audience has he explained what it was and what the empty spaces used to be. They told him all about how they were only just off their mother's milk, and the only meat they received was regurgitated chunks. It was then he had realised how awfully young they were, he worried that they shouldn't be out of their den, let alone wondering the lowlands by themselves.

He had been good at tearing apart tough meat where their puppy teeth could not. _Big Brother Simba_ they started calling him. This relationship was moving along a little too quick for his liking.

"Oi Big Bro!" A different one yipped, leaping onto his back and bouncing off as Simba continued to walk. These pups weigh less than a leaf. That fact made him turn his head to make sure the fragile pup wasn't broken in half or something. Instead however, he got a face full of flying pup, whose tiny blunt teeth clamped onto his ear.

"Ow!" Simba snapped, shaking the pup off violently. Ears were _sensitive_. What were these guys, idiots? He breathed deep through his nose in an attempt to gather some wits, he could feel the rest crowding around him, curious to know what he was going to do. The pup lifted himself from the ground, tail tucked between his legs and his head down in shame. When Simba opened his eyes to glare at him, he got frustrated at the pups inability to look up from the ground. Gees these kid were nothing but hair and fish bones, and it made it worse when they tucked up like that.

"Forget it," he muttered, stalking off again. He swiped his tail in frustration, and he realised his mistake too late. Almost instantly he had a multitude of pups leaping after his tail, chirping whenever they managed to grasp it in their mouths and growling when he yanked it away.

"Stop it!" He spun on them, his shadow cast over their suddenly cowering figures. "Why are you guys following me? Go away already!" He had never interacted with other animals out here, everyone's tolerance was running spider web thin due to the overdue rains, and now Simba realised the desperation of the bone dry lowlands was taking its toll on him as well.

It wasn't nice to be reminded of the Wastelands and the sands. The way the heat felt upon his back makes his hackles rise, and no matter how grainy and dusty the ground was, it felt almost slimy against his pads. Bad memoires. Sometimes Timon goes as far to suggest he was traumatised by his experience as a young cub. But he denied that, after all, he was growing into strong lion now. Soon he would have nothing to fear. If the taste of dry air and the feel of sand struck him with fear, than that was just stupid. Simba backed away from the pups, sizing them up.

"Look, I'm going to take you home, okay? And you're going to stay put like your parents told you." His eyes drifted from one to the next, expecting, well, expecting them to agree and start on their way to the safety of their den. Instead they glanced amongst each other, expecting someone else to know the way home.

"Please tell me you know how to get home." Simba squeezed his eyes together and hung his head, trying to resist growling at the pups. A few squeaked in horror as they realised not even one brother remembered how to get home.

"Well, we hadn't eaten in days, and the hippo smelt _so_ good." Simba softly nodded in growing defeat as the cubs tried to explain. Squaring his shoulders, he scanned the surroundings as he thought about where a dog would make her den.

"Well it can't be far, you smelt it early, and you don't look like you've walked that far." He regarded their small legs, causing a few to puff up in pride.

"Us dogs are the best endurance animal on the plains. When we grow up we'll be able to run the gnu to exhaustion." Simba raised one eyebrow as the pups squeaked amongst each other in agreement.

"Do you even know what a gnu looks like?" They all faltered a bit at his question.

"Well, no, but father talks about them a lot. He's going to train us when we get older." Several 'aha' and 'that's right!' echoed amongst the pups. Flicking his ear to get rid of some flies, Simba stepped close to sniff their scent. Maybe if he could trace their trail back... maybe that would work?

Trotting back the way they had come, he was the golden spear head of a squirming black tidal wave. They ran in such a light, bounding way that it seem like the wind was lifting them up half of the time. As the rounded the crispy trees and the hippo came within sight, Simba drew to a sudden stop, his eyes scanning the crowds with suspicion. There was a noise in amongst the swearing of the vultures...

There, by the great jaws.

Hyena. The jackals were long gone, and only the most experienced and the most desperate of the birds remained as a pair of hyenas ripped the hippo's shoulders to shreds. The meat there was so tough that not even Simba could cleaver it. But it was no match for the hyena, who sever into it easily. It gave him a little shiver as he watched the adults work.

He lay down at the safe distance he and the pups were at, below the trees.

"Who are they?" One pup asked him.

"Hyena," His word has a visible impact. They snapped around to give the hippo their full attention, floppy ears picked up and muscles tense and still. A few jumped to their feet, and they all turned into hyper alert statues before his eyes. It reminded him of the antelope from before.

"Mother and father warned us about the hyena." One with a white stripe above his nose whispered. The rest nodded in vigorous agreement. He could hear their little breaths puff quickly as they panted, and the tiny sound as the one closest to him swallowed.

"Our older siblings, the litter before us, they were all killed by the hyena when they were only pups."

He felt like telling them that _they _were only pups, and why the_ hell_ would they leave the den with this sort of family history. But he realised, maybe it wasn't the right thing to say to what was clearly terrified children.

"Come on, we'll circle around, and you can tell me if anything looks familiar." He paid attention to the smells as he breathed, trying to see if he could pick the scent paths. But the stink of the corpse, and of the vultures had saturated the land. He could pick the smells that he was familiar with, but the new scent of the dogs was hard. Especially with them all around him, rubbing their new scent everywhere. He was not, by any stretch of the word, a master tracker. Were dogs good at tracking? Could they help, or were they still too young? Circling at distance, they left the safety of the tree line and the grass for barren ground. He kept a wary eye on the hyena, knowing that if they bothered to look up and focus there would be no hiding. The pup's black bodies stood out like an oasis in the sands. At least they would have a good head start, and that would be enough. He found it hard to imagine that the hyena would abandon their digs to chase down some distant pups, but there was bad blood between the two clans, the extent of which he wasn't aware. If the horror story of the _other_ _litter_ was anything to go by.

"Pick up the pace guys," Simba told them as he noticed a few had begun to straggle behind.

"But I'm _exhausted_." One huffed, the other two slow pups squeaking along with him. Simba looked between them and the rest, who were keeping up without complaint. Most were running either with their heads turned and glued to the hyenas, or with determined eyes on the back of Simba's heels.

"Are we the best runners on the plains, or what?" The one girl amongst them snapped back at her brothers, her angry little eyes glaring holes into them. That made them pick up their heels, bounding extra long strides to squeeze up into the pack.

"Keep together," Simba warned as he turned back ahead, suddenly nervous now that he couldn't see them. Focusing on evening his speed, he kept running, paying attention to the scents and the prints in the ground.

He wondered if this is what Upweke had felt like.

They had circled half way around when one of the pups yelped. The rest skittered to a halt, and Simba spun expertly on his heels, charging the momentum into an attack as he prepared to defend them against... ah... there was nothing there. Simba circled around the pups, counting them. Finding all eight there, he paid attention to what the pups were discussing.

"Don't you think this looks like the way we came?"The one with a stripe by his nose asked, trotting out from the group to study the rocks and the growing amount of thistles. Half of the pups nodded, the rest looked confused.

"It's almost like it, but not really."

Simba resisted the urge to groan.

* * *

_A Predator, stalking Close By:_

One would think that the crushing dry was nothing but a banquet for the predators. But that was a horrid misconception. She watched from the shade as the masses fought over the remains of the hippo, their savage feeding caws making her heart heat in anticipation. The dead were thick, but the hungry bellies were thicker.

And the flies were thickest of all.

One missed meal and she would risk weakness, and once that set in she was doomed. The competition was simply too fierce to leave anything to chance. She watched as the hyena barrelled into the vultures, grappling amongst each other for flesh. It made her twitchy being this close to the skull crushers, but she knew she was concealed well enough among the dying grass.

She would never dream of fighting it out over some meal, like those brutes. Her body was a fine tuned legacy developed for speed and nothing else. If she so much as strained a tendon she would be out of commission for weeks, and that was simply not acceptable at a time like this. She had cubs to stay strong for. Her brothers had died because her mother had been careless and she was not about to let history repeat.

She had waited too long to be a mother, and worked too hard to let something as foolish as squabbling over food endanger her children's lives. She was not like those foolish antelope, who would just as carelessly abandon a child as they would birth one. Her mother and brothers were the only other cheetah's she had ever known, and they were all dead. Their kind was rare in these parts, and she had spent years finding and assessing the males who lived, sometimes, a months journey away. She did not settle for any male, her cubs had the fastest father in all the lands. She had travelled so far to find her mate that there was no chance of interbreeding, and she felt pride in her cub's strong immune systems. Not one had caught the cold yet. She taught and loved each cub like they were her only, and stressed the importance of strategy. They were the weakest predators in the lands, and so, they needed to be the smartest to get by.

Yes, she was a careful mother, devoted and well-planned. She had studied, and pretended one particular year that she was with cubs, and planned what she would do every waking moment as if she had them, complete with moving den every week and bringing home half alive hares for her imaginary cubs when they were old enough. With keen eyes she watched the commotion one last time before turning away, tail twisting to touch the sides of her four very_ real_ cubs to reassure herself that they followed as silently as she had taught them. She would not lose one, she had vowed to herself a long, long time ago. And so far her she was managing.

One of her best strategies yet was the very reason she had been lead to the hippo feast. The alliance with the dogs meant that her cubs had protection when she went out hunting, and when she had failed to kill too many times in a row, the dog mother was all too happy to nurse her young for her. It had been one of her smartest moments, back when she caught wind of the fact that the dog's first litter had been slaughtered by the hyena, she knew they would be moldable. She had sort out the mother when she was hunting alone, offered her condolences, told her she couldn't imagine what she was going through. She was the sole survivor of her birth litter, and she saw the effect it had on her mother, who grew wan. It was one of her deepest fears, she had admitted to the mother dog all those seasons ago, and had told her to never hesitate to ask her to cub guard if there was to be another litter. She had made a point to seek the dogs out at least once every month, and soon they were familiar enough of her they invited her back to their den. Sometimes she would come baring a hare as a gift, once even a little disabled fawn whose mother had abandoned her. It had been a quick death and a delicious meal.

When the dogs excitedly told her they were trying for a litter again, she had excused herself to seek out her chosen mate. She said synchronised litters would mean more milk to go around if anything was to happen, and the more young meant the safer they became as they grew. She told them that was what the lionesses did. Even though the dogs had never seen a lion in their lives, they knew the king of beasts reputation, and had thought it a very good idea.

There is was again, the trail. The pups and some sort of forest smelling cat. Originally she thought it was a leopard, but it was different from that as well. She invited her cubs to come up and sniff at the trail along with her, asking them what they could smell.

"The pups," one said, still sniffing curiously at a blade of grass.

"Moja and Tatu," her smallest cub noted.

"And can any of you smell the scent of someone else?" All their little brows furrowed as they crawled closer, trying to pick the smell apart.

"It smells of the jungle, very musky and deep, and smells of a cat," she explained to them, helping them pick it out.

"Is it a leopard, mother?" the one beside her asked quietly. She shook her head.

"No, it's different, more... dry and ... big." She doesn't know how something could smell big, but it did. Was there such a thing as a mega leopard? She eyed the grass around her warily.

"Which way did they go?" She asked her children questioningly, they took a few seconds to walk up and down the scent before settling on the correct direction. She purred in pride and followed the trail, twisting her tail to make sure her cubs were close on her heels. It was the only way she would know there were there - she had taught them stealth far too successfully

* * *

_Simba, with Many Awed Followers:_

He stepped away to cautiously sniff the thistles. He was getting the scent of those tiny grass birds, as well as rats. They must have a nest in amongst the thistles. Simba followed the one pup further through the grass, noticing that they joined onto a well traveled trail trampled with recent hooves.

"Do you guys remember this?" The rest followed him out and stood upon the trail, their heads either going up to scan the surroundings or down to sniff at the trail.

"Yeah, we did follow a trail. But was it this big?" They were all very quite as they looked between each other. There were plenty of trails around, it could easily be the wrong one.

"Well what was before the trail? Or on the trail? Do you remember anything else? Like a tree or something." That had them trotting in circles, as if something would just magically occur to them. Walking away, Simba called for them to keep close as he headed for a knobbly, broad tree. He paused at the base, carefully feeling how his claws felt in the bark, and judging his leap. With one strong push he soared above the first rung of branches and into the fork of the second, gripping his arms over the fork and digging his claws in, he slipped a bit before catching himself, causing some skinning on his soft underside. The pups were watching him with intense curiosity, a few circling as they looked for their own way up. Fat chance, thought Simba. This tree was not very pup friendly. Hell, it wasn't even Simba friendly, and he was _good_ at climbing trees.

Easing himself higher and onto the fork, he wobbled out onto a slim branch before crouching and jumping onto a higher and more large one. Reaching up he started to push his way through the thickening cluster of higher and smaller branches. With a few more acrobatic positions to push his way through the thicket, his head pocked through the leaf layer and into empty air.

Alright, so the hyenas were still working on the hippo and the trail they had been walking along before lead to the watering hole. From this height he could even make out the beginning of the massive lake that sat around the mountain. Gees, how high was he? He could even _just_ make out the massive crowds by the lake side, dark clusters of herds driven in from the surrounding lands. Just looking at it gave him a headache. Was he glad Pumbaa and Timon kept to the quiet side of the lowlands, the desperation and claustrophobia of the hundreds some five or so miles away was palpable. Swivelling around some more, Simba tried to pick some landmarks the pups might have noticed.

"Do you guys remember running downhill to get here?" He shouted down to them.

"No, it was rather flat," one shouted back. With his ears peeled, Simba managed to catch the softer words of another pup.

"But Tatu, we had to go down into a gully and we climbed out of that." Gully... gully... Simba scanned the land, which alternated between parched earth, grass clumps, and small groves of thorny trees and thistly undergrowth.

"Did you go across a lot of empty land, or through tall grass?"

"Ah, in the beginning there was this really tall orange sort of grass."

"Then a - then the trail!"

"Yeah, and the birds."

"And then we crossed the gully. There was, like, these four huge trees there, and then the grass was normal like this stuff here."

"And we followed our noses before climbing over some rocks, and then we just ran across the ground to the hippo."

"Yeah!"

Further north, he was sure of it, was the way to go. He could see four big trees, and the grass was thicker that way. With it being close to the watering hole, he knew there stood a better chance than most for there to be a gully worn into the landscape. Yes. Further north, towards the watering hole.

"Alright! We'll follow this path north." He announced down to the ground. Simba paused for one last second to admire the view before starting his slow way back. A few twigs snapped against his skin and cut him, making him flinch and be more cautious as he went, one paw at a time.

Someone was snarling, and it couldn't be any of the pups, because it was much too deep. Simba stilled in the tree and peered down to where the pups had crowded together against the trunk. A cheetah, beautiful and sleek, slipped through the grass towards the pups.

"What are you doing out here alone," she snapped, slapping a paw down and hissing.

"We're not alone!" A pup growled. Simba started to bunch up his muscles, preparing how he would leap to sail through the lower branches, and land on the cheetah perfectly enough to stun her.

"Oh? Are you talking about that jungle-cat?" She sniffed at the ground, where indeed his smell would be lingering. From up here he could see some younger cheetah's waiting in the grass, well concealed if it wasn't for their constant twitching, like they were waiting to be released, making the grass around them sway.

The cheetah took a step closer to the pups before suddenly turning her head up and meeting him. Her glare was unsettling, and she hissed as she registered what he was.

He hadn't any reason to snarl these days, not in the way he did now. He was slightly terrified, and slightly protective. He hadn't realised how much he had grown, truly, until he twisted and snarled down at her. He sounded grown. Not booming like the true lions could do, but vicious enough.

"Pups, get away," she hissed, starting to circle around the tree. They did as she told, shocked by the sudden aggression pressing down on them all. Simba panicked, worried that the other cheetahs would ambush the young pups. He didn't know exactly how big they were, but he wasn't about to take risks. Lunging down to the ground, he forced himself to land on his feet and retain a sense of balance. She was on him in a split second, slashing across his face. Leaping back Simba assessed her as she towered over him. Maybe he could chew on her ankles? It felt that way. No one told him how ridiculously tall cheetahs were, just that they were thinner and easier to push over then grass. He made to swipe at her, the action forcing her backwards. It became evident she was not willing to go hard, and looked slightly off put by the notion of a fight.

"I don't want any trouble," he told her, causing her ears to lift up a bit.

"Well, as long as you're not going to harm the pups, you'll get no trouble." Simba narrowed his eyes at how much her body language had changed. She looked generally sincere.

"Oh, okay. Good then." He nodded, stumbling over his words as the change of the conversations tone gave him whiplash. "I've been trying to get them home, but they don't remember which way their den is." The cheetah rolled her eyes and glared at the pups, but with the initial pulse of fear gone from both cats, it was far less threatening and more resigned exasperation.

"Well luckily I know the way home," she stalks over to the pups, eyeing them, "your parents are going to be very disappointed when they find out." All the pups wilted as one at the words. He suddenly felt very stupid when he realised she was a family friend. _Gees, thanks for letting me know_. Simba thought to himself as he glared at the pups. But he couldn't keep it up for very long. As the cheetah started to lecture about responsibility or some such nonsense, the others that had been hidden in the grass leapt out, tackling as many pups as they could with the element of surprise. He felt even stupider when he saw that the four cubs were only a touch bigger than the pups. The mother, having abandoned her lecture in frustration, turned to him and they talked for a bit about their mutual dislike for puppies and their mutual hope for the rains to come. It was pleasant enough, hell _she_ was pleasant enough. After introducing him to her cubs, the mother started to get the pups on their way, warning them that there were hyenas close by. As they went into the grass after her, Simba hung back, trying to figure out how best to leave.

"Ah, I think I might go home now." The puppies whined and three in particular jumped on his back in an attempt to hold him down, but he just ignored them. "I got separated from my family a few hours ago, before these guys came, and I'm sure they'll be worried about me." The cheetah mother swallowed and wished him luck.

"Yes, it's best not to keep them waiting." She murmured. "If you, or your pride, ever needs any help, don't be afraid to ask. We help each other here in Arusha." Simba nodded his thanks and watched her go, disgruntle puppies and all.

* * *

_Simba, returned home:_

"Thanks for ditching me" He rasped, causing Timon to raise an eyebrow as he pulled a twig out from where it had embedded in his forearm.

"Well, honestly, we had been trailing you for awhile, waiting for you to ditch the pups before we got too close. Then you went and got yourself stalked by a cheetah." Simba laughed at Timon's hysterical expression, causing him to slowly relax and sag his shoulders as he sighed in defeat. "How did it feel to be the responsible one for a while there?" Timon asked, shaking the splinter at him. Simba knew Timon meant for him to admit that it was stressful, or perhaps nerve-racking. One of numerous attempts to laminate about the weight looking after Simba lay on his tiny shoulders. Simba just smirked.

"No different than normal, really." That caused the meerkat to scowl.

"Oh ha ha, you're such a funny lion." He threw the splinter over his shoulder, narrowly missing Pumbaa as he grazed on some tough grass.

"Hey!" the hog shrieked, Timon threw his hands up into the air.

"It was just a splinter! Get over it! Honestly I am _this_ close to losing it." In all seriousness Timon did look on the brink of insanity. Simba considered his twitching guardian more carefully. "If these rains don't come soon I am gonna go so crazy I'll start stalking me some hyena for dinner."

Simba laughed at him, a good, endless belly laugh that made him roll on his side and sigh.

If these rains didn't come soon, the very _air_ would crack. The herds were more aggressive by the day, and everyone was on edge. The delicate balance of life was at a tipping point. Timon and Pumbaa had been muttering about going back home if the dry continued to hold. Sure, the party that broke out when the rain started to fall was legendary, but was it worth _this?_

Pumbaa came and lay down beside him, snorting to himself as he settled into a comfortable position.

"Hey Pumbaa," Simba asked his guardian quietly.

"Yeah?" he grunted, lifting his heavy head up.

"What's it like? When the rains fall?" Simba closed his eyes, listening to the trees rustling above them. Timon, who was making himself comfortable in the crook of Simba's folded arms, snorted at the question.

"It's like taking a giant dump after keeping it in all day." Pumbaa stretched his legs out and sighed as Timon chuckled. Simba peeked one eye open to look at the little creature reclining in his fur, hands behind his head and chin resting on his chest.

"That sounds about right," Timon chuckled, before lapsing into snores.

Simba didn't go to sleep that afternoon, he listened to the distant calls of the animals, and the sound of the wind, and the comforting snoring of his family.

He wondered if he would get to see the pups again. Maybe even those cheetahs too. He would like to race them, see how fast they _really_ were.

* * *

_A Nine Year Old Elephant, feet dusty from the Outerlands:_

Tembo was the first one to spy the storm clouds. His small trunk pointing at where they gathered on the edge of the mountain ridge. Grandmother grumbled that the mountain would keep the rains at bay for another night, but soon they would grow so much they would push each other over the bank, and it would all tumble down suddenly into Arusha.

Mother said that was why they always came here, it was all so _theatrical. _The Arusha Rain Festival was one of the most joyous times of the year, and the crowds drew together for it. She had been coming every year since she was a calf and this will be her twelfth. It will mark her procession from calf to halfling. She trumpeted at the sky, and some of her younger cousins squealed in excitement as well. She couldn't wait, because after halfing it was mistress, then elder, and maybe one day, matriarch. She followed closely behind her grandmother, watching closely, as she does every day, to everything the matriarch did.

One day she's going to be the biggest, most feared elephant in all the lands, and she'll lead the biggest herd in history. Her mother told her that wasn't a very matriarch-y thing to say, and that maybe she was a bit confused. She said that a warrior was more fitting for her.

Pah! She wanted to lead! Lead into war! Yeah, that was a good idea. She could conquer some new land for her cousins. Who were they kidding? She was _totally_ matriarch material.

Grandmother lead them to the lake and waited patiently for the herds to move along before taking the family to the lake edge. Frustrated by all the standing around and looking at water instead of drinking it, Masikio snuck away from the herd and plowed her way down a different embankment. The cows gossiping about the water's edge didn't know what hit them. She sucked water up and snorted it out over her, enjoying the cool trickle of water along her skin. It had been hard out in the plains, and the dry had cracked all water from the land. She submerged herself, standing mouth deep in the lake and swallowing the water down. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she went out further and squealed when she couldn't touch the bottom anymore. She breathed through her trunk as she held it carefully above the water, and went around in a big circle back to the bank. Emerging out, she rolled on her back and grinded herself into the muddiest patch.

It became obvious to her, somewhere between lathering herself with mud and attempting to drink half of the lake, that she had drifted much further down that she intended in the first place. She heard the trumpets of unfamiliar elephants close by, and was in such a good mood she didn't question the wisdom of her decision to go and introduce herself. Climbing up the bank and into a heavy bushland, she used her trunk to push branches out of the way. On the other side she came out into a clearing where four young bulls were playing. She was instantly curious. Bulls sometimes joined her herd for a few days at the time, making love to whatever mistress was interested in him. But she had never seen them in herds like this. Trumpeting a greeting, she walked up to them without hesitation, looking to see if she recognised any of them.

"Who are you?" One asked, paused from snapping a small branch of a tree.

"I'm Masikio," she answered chirpily, "me and my herd just arrived. How long have you guys been here?" The closer she came the bigger they got. Maybe they weren't close in age at all. But still, they weren't full grown bulls either. Old halflings, she reasoned.

"Masikio?" one echoed, turning his head to the side to regard her. "From the Pembe tribe?" Her ears rose in delight.

"Yeah!" She trumpeted, before narrowing her eyes as she thought long and hard about his face, failing to recognise him. "Do I know you?" He smiled, reaching his trunk out to boop her head affectionately.

"You're my baby sister. You were only a tiny calf when I left the herd. Even then you were causing trouble." He laughed, and as if that was a signal, his three friends reached forwards to greet her, booping her on the head and making her swipe her trunk at them in protest.

"I'm not a calf anymore, once the rains fall, I'll be a halfing." She threw her head up in the air, demonstrating her monstrous size.

Which was about half as big as them, but she didn't let herself get bogged down in details.

"Oh, my apologies," her brother laughed, reaching forward to greet her in the proper halfing way, placing his trunk between her eyes and slipping it down.

"So who are your friends?" She asked, looking at the other three nearly-bulls.

"Some idiots that keep following be around," her brother grunted, one swiped him in response with his trunk, and her brother head butted him back.

She eyes went wide in awe. They just, fight? They could fight and there was no mothers to yell at them about _kindness _and _generosity_? These guys were cool!

"You should come and say hello to the herd, I'm sure mother would like to see you." She was half turned around, ready to lead the way, and frowned when she noticed they didn't move an inch to follow her.

"I don't think that's a good idea," one of the friends grumbled.

"Well I wasn't talking to you, was it?" She informed him, before turning back to her older brother. Their eyes meet, and it seemed like he was trying to gauge her.

"He's right, Masikio, we won't be welcome. It'll just make grandmother upset." She couldn't believe her ears.

"But your her own grandson, she should be happy!" She whined. Her newly found brother took a very final looking step back.

"No, there are laws, it wouldn't be right." He told her, making her squawk.

"What?! Laws? Against visiting your own family?"

"You're only a calf, you're not meant to know." Masikio jabbed her trunk up at where the dark clouds gathered.

"Look, you see those clouds? You can see," she stretched her trunk out even further, "see! I am THAT close to being a halfing so I won't tell anyone if you told me early."

Her brother roared with laughter, shaking his head as he did.

"No, its tradition for the matriarch to tell you. It's part of the ceremony. I won't ruin your festival just because you begged me to.

"No fair."

* * *

_A Cold Bloodied, by a Quiet Den:_

Naja lay stretched out in the sun, the sparrow he had caught before digesting nicely in his stomach. Today had been a good day, quiet, peaceful, uneventful, quiet, cal-

He lifted his head and listened to the patter of paws and a monsoon of squeals. His good day had ended. Drawing himself back up, Naja rested his head on the pleasant sand and sighed as the tall, elegant figure of the cheetah mother emerged from the shrubbery, a plague of cubs and puppies boiling around her feet.

"Naja," she said with false sweetness, her eyes landing on his black body. He was probably shinning a bright copper along his sides from the intense sun, and so he flexed and inched along a bit trying to display his size. He had known Chordata for years, and he knew he didn't stand a chance of intimidating her, but some instinct always made him subconsciously try to. If you couldn't run, than intimidate. Even his hood was starting to stretch out a bit. "Mind telling me how the puppies got away?" She walked over to where he was on top of the den, the end of her tail twisting and catching his eye, distracting him for half a second.

"I'm a rat catcher not a baby sitter; if those numb skulls want to go off and get eaten it ain't my problem." He rose up to be on eye level with her, his grey underbelly and white jaw on display. "What am I going to do? Hold them down?" He hissed sarcastically. Chordata rolled her eyes before muttering.

"They're scared of you, if you were to have at least scolded them when they started to leave, I'm sure they would have stayed. They could have died out there Naja." He scoffed, avoiding her eye, and instead glared at the puppies wrestling one another in the sand nearby. Half had already gone down into the burrow, along with all of Chordata's cubs.

"I was off hunting some breakfast, and truth be told I suspected they were waiting for me to leave before making their escape. They are getting smart and devious now. My poor old bones can't be in two places at once." Chordata sighed deeply and looked to the clear sky above them in frustration.

"These pups are going to make me chew my own tail off," she groaned.

"Hey, you don't get to talk. I have to live with them." He corrected her, grumbling an additional, "thanks for that by the way."

"My pleasure," she purred, smoothing over his acidic sarcasm. "You were homeless after that Nyegere evicted you from your old burrow, and I happened to know someone with a rat problem that was happy to share their den." She leaned forward to lick the top of his head, and like always he recoiled from her in disgust, making her laugh. Sadist.

"Well it would have been nice of you to warm me that they were expecting the spawn of hell." He hissed. She continued to laugh.

"Her belly was almost bursting! How on earth did you miss it?" He debated whether or not to dignify her with an answer. She made fun of him all the time for his 'selective blindness' as she called it.

"I'm a reptile, not a mammal; I don't understand those sorts of things." She continued to laugh at him, making his hood puff up in indignity.

"Well if it ever gets too rough around here for you, I know of some abandoned warthog burrows to the south. But the Nyegere might claim those too. Both of their young survived the season," she purred, twisting to groom some fur of her chest down. Naja prayed those overgrown savage weasels inbred and died out while he scanned the area, looking to be considering Chordata's proposal.

"Nah, the food's too good. The dogs are so grubby that all the rodents swarm this place. I've never eaten this well in my life - I'm growing faster than flies on a corpse." He eased up some more and stretched his long body out. "What do you think? Biggest cobra you've ever laid your eyes on?"

"Oh, definitely." She purred, going in to lick to his head again, making him leap back. "The most ferocious snake in Arusha, for sure. Pest catcher, puppy watcher, all round lazy waste of space."

He settled for hissing at her.

* * *

_A Disappointment, caught in the Hunt:_

Under the cover of night they slipped out, the nervous giggle of their war cries echoing into the dark. She could hear the crashing of spooked animals throughout the woodlands as they frantically fled before them, but no one else in the party seemed to be paying attention. They were out for one thing only tonight.

Lion.

Some scouts had sighted them, two kings, coming in from the plains. They would be at their weakest, tired from the journey into Arusha, desperate from whatever conditions on the plains was driving them in. If the pack wanted to maintain alpha status in the cradle, they couldn't simply allow two kings to march in under the cover of night. Or so the pre-battle speech had gone.

She ran at the heels of Bo, a half rate hyena no one truly respected. She didn't like him either, some of the things he said were downright un-hyena, but he was the only one willing to accept her as their backing for the hunt. Her mother was taking her _perfect in every way _daughter, and her father was too unimpressed by her to give her a chance, opting instead for one of those big butt-head young males borne from aunt Gilt and what she claims was a passionate affair with a black lion. She glared at where he ran beside her father. That was her father, she deserved to be at his side. If he was half lion then what the hell was he doing going on this hunt?! None of the pack acknowledged her, too afraid of her parents to step out of line. The alpha pair was ashamed to have a daughter like her. She knew. She was lucky Bo was crazy enough to go along with her, muttering something about vipers in the night. Keeping up with the fast pace of the pack was demanding, and sometimes Bo would start to fall behind. She would growl at him, and when that stopped working, started to run ahead of him. She was _not _going to let this old flea bag humiliate her any more than she already was. As he started to tire more and more, she left him with a vile insult about his mother, and galloped across the land to catch the tail end of the pack. She glued her eyes to her sister, whose tan pelt shone against the moonlight, and forced herself to keep running even as she started to lose all feeling in her paws.

The pack stopped to search for a scent trail, allowing her just enough time to catch up before they ran off again, faster than before as they chased a hot scent. Her mother, leading the pack, screamed and yowled into the night as they drew close and her sister imitated her, causing the pack to giggle in anticipation and a few to start frothing at the mouth. There was nothing more fearsome than a lion hunt, and no place better to increase your honour and standing within the clan.

After a couple of minutes of running and stalking, the pack split in two, one lead by her mother and the other by one of her oldest aunts. She followed the hyena in front of her, shadowing them closely so as not to break formation and stand out too much. It was against the rules to go into a battle without your allocated mentor. She let her eyes drift across and settle on her father, who was watching her with furious eyes. There would be a scolding later, and if the way foam was spitting from his mouth as he growled, she could be in from a smacking. Setting her mouth in a firm line, she concentrated on keeping to the pack, keeping out from under the more experienced fighter's paws and hanging back with the other cubs who had come as backings. She could hear the screams as the other half of the pack engaged, and the roars of the lions made her blood run cold.

She had never hear something so loud in her life, it sounded like thunder right next to her ear. But being only three months old, she had never heard thunder in her life. Heart racing she leapt and surged with the pack as her aunt gave the signal, and they moved in to capture the lions from the other side, circling around them and trapping them in. Poking her head between two of the bigger males, her eyes struggled to process what she was seeing.

Even when skinny and ragged, the kings managed to dwarf the hyena, their long, lean bodies at odds with the robust, stout shapes of the hyena. The glory-hungry ones would break from the circle to attack, and the kings would make short work of them, swatting them away. One they managed to hold down and bite at, twisting and tearing one of his legs from his body. The pack's screams raised an octave after that, and teams would charge in, sometimes a whole wall of the circle charging together. Once she had been caught up in it, and it was terrifying.

The circle was a constantly shifting, interlocking beast, and often she would have to run and turn around the other way to find a new space to look through. Rain started to hammer down and it washed the slime of blood over the ground, making the whole land slick with it. As more hyena got beaten and eased up to the backlines, she was pushed closer and closer to the front. Lighting struck and blinded her, and the following thunder paled in comparison to the kings. Her section surged forward again, those behind her forcing her forward like a stampede, her heart stuttered to a stop as she became within attack range of the kings. The female beside her got attacked, but his large paws sailed over her head harmlessly. For once she was glad of her unhonourable tiny size.

Just as the section was sent skittering back, someone barrelled into her, forcing her off balance and flying forward into the blood-mud. She twisted back as she skidded to a stop, glaring at her sister who stood where she once was, a cunning smirk playing across her face. She stood a chance of going undetected if she remained still, her black coat hiding her well against the darkness. However, another lighting strike cracked through the sky above them, and one of the king spun and threw her like a clump of sand, his claws digging deep into her on impact, and one catching around a rib. Her scream was drowned out by the thunder and the war cry as another section came forward, trampling her where she had landed. She felt someone grab her by the scruff, and drag her through the mud, away from the death circle. Her last clear memory was of mud scooping into where the king had ripped her side open and the laboured breathing of the hyena as he tried to lift her up and carry her away.

She hated her sister. She hated, hated, _hated_ her sister. It was not uncommon for hyena siblings to kill each other, but that was at birth, when they were small and stupid. That first month was called 'the pit' and most times only half of the litter would survive. But that was normal. That was just the strongest sorting itself from the weakest. That was hyena tradition, passed down from old times. She tasted blood in her mouth, and spat it out in disgust. Attempts on your siblings life was frowned upon outside of 'the pit', but, welcome to her life. Her sister was perfect, growing quickly into a big alpha female, vicious and bloodthirsty. Her parents just _loved_ her. And then there was her, _stunted_ they said, small, weak, _where are her spots? Her sister already has her spots._

She woke up after sunrise, hidden underneath a large log. A slither of hippo meat lay beside her, covered in flies, and wearily she tried to sit up and scoff it down. Her side shot with pain at the movement and she curled in on herself, whimpering. The grass outside rustled as someone moved forward and stuck their face down underneath the log. It took her a few seconds to focus and recognise the hyena.

"Mu," she whined, her memories of last night coming back and making her wish she could just hide under this log and never come out.

"Bina," he greeted softly, "I wasn't sure you would make it through the night. Tiny bodies don't handle wounds well." She blinked several times, trying to figure out if she was hearing things. Mu had never said so much as three sentences to her, and certainly never seemed the sort to talk to her _kindly._ "Grandpa Bo told me what had happened," her cousin paused and frowned, "you shouldn't have gone off like that, you know. The pack thinks you've crawled off and died somewhere, your father is furious, I think he wanted to kill you himself." He didn't look like he was joking.

"Tell him to get in line." She laughed darkly, making Mu scowl before drawing his head back out from under the log.

"Grandpa Bo cleaned your wound last night when you were flaked out, but give it another wash would ya. And eat all that meat there. I'm going to go see if there is any more left, those greedy buggers had him pretty well stripped this morning." That last part seemed to be directed more at himself than her as he trotted off, leaving her alone with only the snoring of another close by. With the chunk of flesh held firmly in her jaws, she eased herself out from under the log and surveyed where the two males had stashed her. It looked a lot different to the dry landscape of home. The trees were green and the leaves were _huge._ The land was steep and the ground a dark soil instead of sand and dust. She looked around, noticing the sky was grey and overcast, and the sounds of cheers and song was drifting along the wind. Settling down next to Bo, she started chewing on the hippo meat, enjoying the view she had from the new height. They seemed to have taken her to a hideout that was halfway up the slope of the mountains. From up here she could see large puddles that had grown from the vicious rains last night, their surfaces shimmering as the herds walked through them and swam in their deeper parts. The unfamiliar sounds of the jungle buzzed behind her, making her hair prick in excitement.

"Hey Bo," she asked, after she had been a good pup and eaten every last bit of her food. Bo stirred and cracked one eye open to watch her.

"What, exactly, did you see?" She asked attentively, unsure if he had seen _all _of it.

"The rat grows fast, and the elephant grows slow," he tilted his head to the side, studying her. She scowled at him, that wasn't much of an answer. "But which is the greater beast?" he heaved his old body up, wrinkled rolls of loose skin swaying, and looked out over the lands. "Grow fat on the sweet fruits, or grow strong on the tough grass?" She scrunched her face up at him.

"What are you on about?" She growled. He leaned closer to her, his milky eyed boring into her.

"Your brothers did not survive the pit, but you did. Curious. You are the runt, yet you survive. Size truly means nothing."

"Well size sure helps a lot," she grumbled, shame faced, understanding he was talking about her and her sister. He must have seen it then.

"If size mattered, then the elephant would be king," and then he got up on his unsteady legs and left her, disappearing down the slope and into the sub-jungle bracken.

Half way through licking her wound, it started to rain again. It made the nicest sound against the broad leaves of the jungle trees, and the air seemed to sigh as it cooled instantly. The grass danced in the calm breeze and the frogs sung from where they were hidden all around.

_The rat grows fast and the elephant grows slow. But which is the greater beast?_

Did he really expect her to believe that her sister was a rat, and she was an elephant? No wonder the pack thought he was crazy. What was cousin Mu doing, sneaking around with this guy? Bina shook her head, deciding she wouldn't say anything mean. At least not out loud. She probably owed them her life.

Bina closed her eyes and listened, enjoying the feel of the warm rain water against her black fur.

* * *

_Simba, joining in the Celebrations:_

He paddled through the fresh water, Timon swimming alongside him like a frog.

"Ah, Simba, could you not," he spluttered, spitting water from his mouth, "your waves keep dunking me under". Simba raised an eyebrow at the meerkat.

"It's not my fault you're so tiny," he teased, watching Timon struggle against the waves. Close by an elephant collapsed into the water, making the zebra freak and creating an tsunami that was quickly rolling their way. "Argh, brace yourself," Simba laughed, watching as Pumbaa got hit first and was pulled under the water for a few seconds. Timon had just enough time to turn around and scream before a wave as big as Pumbaa's belly rolled over him. The wave forced Simba onto his side, and pushed him a paw length under the surface. He opened his eyes and looked around in awe at the grass below him. Yesterday this had been a parched stretched of land, and now it was at the bottom of a winding river. Pushing himself down to get a better look, he startled a frog from the grass, a trail of eggs following her up before breaking and floating gently along in the current. Surging back up to the surface, he had just enough time to gasp for air before water was blasted at him. Choking, Simba blinked his eyes open and stared at the trunk that hung in front of him, confused.

"My name is Masikio and I'm a halfing!" The trunk announced loudly. Simba paddled forward until his paws could touch the river bed, and looked up at the young elephant as he caught his breath back.

"Congratulations," he said stupidly after finding her eyes, which were a striking shade of orange in their center.

"I'm an elephant," she trumpeted, "at that's my family," she turned to look at the elephant herd away down the river, the ones who were probably responsible for drowning Timon. Simba looked across the surface of the river and whispered a silent little 'rest in peace' as he imagined Timon rising from the bank any moment now, demanding a fight with whatever creature was responsible for the massive dive bomb.

"What are you, some sort of otter?" Simba laughed at her innocence. Weren't elephants meant to be, like, smart or something? Maybe she had just never seen a lion cub drenched to the bone before.

"I'm the best swimming cat in all of Arusha," he acclaimed proudly, puffing his chest up. She raised her trunk and curled it back to rest against her forehead while flapping her ears out.

"You wanna race!" She squealed.

"Oh, you bet," he smirked. Were elephants good swimmers? Rule of thumb said desert animals were _not_ very good at swimming, and they didn't look like they would make good swimmers. Simba grinned deviously at her as a soft smirk started to grown on the small elephant's face.

Turns out she was a _very _good swimmer.

After a few hours of racing (being dunked underwater by her waves) and searching the river bottom for treasure (they found three frogs, one skull, one burrow turned underwater cave and five pretty stones) he was _exhausted._ Simba glared at Masikio as he paddled frantically while she simply strolled along the bottom of the river. It got deeper and he was sick of being dunked under all the time, so he climbed on top of her head and let her float him around, enjoying the view. Sometimes she would climb up the bank and across the grassland to another river nearby. It felt so good being up high, but she swayed so much sometimes he nearly fell.

He had a feeling she was doing that on purpose, because his terrified yelps made her giggle.

Later, while she and Pumbaa wallowed in the mud and he bathed his fur dry again, Simba apologised to Timon. It wasn't his fault that some creatures were so freakishly big and weren't respectful of their smaller friends.

Timon looked at him like he had grown another head.


	8. Nobody Knows My Sorrow

Nobody Knows My Sorrow

_Simba, as the Days Slip By:_

The cub liked to fight. It was no secret, and caused no end of bemoaning from Timon and Pumbaa. He liked to ambush and wrestle, to roll and feel defeat as much as he liked the rush of winning. With the water up, and the flocks coming in, he liked to prowl slowly amongst the reeds, waiting for the perfect chance before leaping. A seemly million birds screaming and taking off, water flying off them and raining down onto him as he bunched his muscles and surged through the shallows, his eyes trying to pick the slower ones from the chaos.

He liked to charge from concealment, and laugh as Timon screamed and tripped over his own feet. He liked to throw himself at Pumbaa, and try to use everything he had to wrap his arms around the warthog and spear him into the ground.

He liked to run, his paws striking the wet bank softly, and to leap over sleeping crocodiles as they sun bathed on mass. He especially liked to randomly go running, and see what startled and charged out from the forest as he skimmed along the tree line.

The animals were happy again, times were at their very best, water flowed, the sun was pleasant and the grass was growing lushly.

Translation: he could literally get away with murder.

One of the most dominate bucks on the lowlands, an Impala with a streaked coat, had been on the receiving end of Simba's pranks one too many times by the week's end. He was the first to snap. As his wives flew away across the plains-turned-marshes, he spun and threw his head down to the ground, charging on Simba with his horns outstretched. That had been a fun day. Once the buck realised that Simba was carefully keeping his claws from digging too deep, his rage eased enough to realise that the cub's roars were laced with childish giggles.

Impala understood, especially strong Impala like the buck. They were _always _mock fighting each other. It was a testament to how tough and dominate the buck was, that he didn't freak out at the idea of play fighting the cub. Half his height but equal in weight, with jaws that would sometimes mouth his jugular, but not apply pressure.

Or maybe it was a testament to how naive he was. All he knew was head butting and charging, making it easy for Simba to flex and get as his neck. Victory after victory had the buck cursing and trotting in circles around him, perhaps for the first time in a long time, being forced to think.

Simba taught him to throw his shoulder and protect his neck, and the buck taught Simba how to avoid getting kicked in the skull. It was all about timing. It was fun, and when rain rolled across the lowlands, they parted with civil acknowledgments on the others strength. It was more than the smugness of Nala, the crankiness of Timon, or the confused hurt of Pumbaa because _why are you trying to attack me?_

He _liked _it. It was good and filled with respect for one another. Simba felt like they had forged a steely bond of friendship, which was different from the usual 'annoying brat' experience.

But nothing compared to fighting Masikio. It wasn't about strength – it couldn't be about strength – it had to be tactics. And that was something, he had discovered, gave he even more of a thrill.

Not only were her ears keen, but her feet where hyper sensitive, able to pick up footfalls when he tried to sneak up on her. She was surprisingly quick moving when it came to close combat, but her top speed wasn't enough to catch him. Her skin was easy to climb because of its sags and wrinkles, so if he had the element of surprise and speed, he could scale up her back with ease. She was able to reach back and throw him if he sat on her shoulders or neck, but on her withers he was relatively untouchable. Until she decided to rub aggressively against a tree.

Simba dug his claws deep into the tree and launched himself up the trunk, grasping a branch and lodging himself there amongst the twigs. The whole structure trembled as Masikio kept leaning up against it, whirling to wrap her trunk around the bronze coloured trunk and heave it toward her, making several things go snap.

Simba hissed at her as his claws started to slip. You're _not _meant to _actually kill_ your opponent. That infuriating trunk unwrapped and snapped up to reach for him, just falling short. Simba started to smirk, but felt it die upon his face when he saw that look in her eye. With a grunt of effort, the grown calf raised up on two legs, her front feet resting heavily against the tree, causing it to groan again. Simba watched as she rose, coming almost eye level with him in the tree.

For five seconds, there was silence.

"Argh, fine." He snapped and huffed, turning his head away from her in disgust. She started to giggle, on and on, even after she had dropped back down to all four feet. Her little brother, the youngest elephant of her heard, toddled over and openly gawked at him.

"How is he going to get down?" He shouted with concern, making his sister giggle again.

"I don't know." Masikio tried for serious concern, before breaking down again. "I think he might be stuck. He's like a baby bird up there, all scared and puffed up." Her brother didn't laugh along with her, he just looked extremely, extremely worried. It was nice to know someone cared.

"_Pha-lease_, I can get down from here _easily_. Need I remind you that I come from the rainforest? I practically lived in the trees up there." Simba worked his claws into the bark as he frantically looked for a way down that could be, at least, a fraction possible.

Masikio laughed so hard she snorted.

Once one of the older cousins helped him down, a gentle natured near-bull called Iman, Simba decided it was time to retire his career as a champion elephant fighter. There were just some fights a lion couldn't pick, not at his age, at least. Simba glared from the corner of his eye at Masikio as she chuckled and walked along side him. Perhaps when she was asleep? Maybe with a team effort? Were they ticklish on their bellies? Hmmmm...

Lost in dreams_ (battle tactics!)_ Masikio had drawn in front of him, and was now leading him and her tiny brother back to the herd. He could hear the sounds they made as they wallowed in the mud and their quiet conversations drawing closer. Emerging from the grass and onto the river bank, the great behemoth that was Masikio's Grandmother sat up and look at him intently. She had been lying on her side before, looking like the great bloated carcass of a long extinct monster, but now she was carefully struggling to her feet.

He had never actually talked to the Grandmother, but when he drew nearby, she always watched him with intensity. It scared him, like he was going to be made a meal out of. This was only the third time he had hung out with the herd, so maybe she was just wary of the mysterious lion.

But he was a fly compared to her! _Just crush me under your toe now and be done with it!_

She rumbled, like every other time, like she was going to talk but forgot to open her mouth. Simba turned away and pretended to be relaxed as he followed Masikio past the herd and further along the bank to a smaller mud slick.

"She doesn't like me."

Masikio raised a brow as she gently collapsed herself into the mud. Some small creatures that had been wallowing there skittered away into the river, causing Simba to shiver. Baby crocodiles, most likely, or perhaps toads.

"Who?"

"The scary one."

"Scary?"

"The big one."

Masikio looked highly amused.

"They're all big."

"The big _big_ one."

Masikio swiped her trunk through the mud and flopped onto her side. Taking his time with judging the distance, Simba leapt from the bank to her, using her like a stepping stone.

"Oh, she's just thinking. I know she likes you, she asks questions about you all the time. What's your name, where did you come from, how old you are, what you're like, where your family is..."

Simba grimace.

Gingerly he walked up towards her head, pausing when she swiped her muddy trunk over her face, and resuming once she had huffed a sigh. Sitting gently by her shoulder, he looked down into her tiny eyes, which rolled to peer at him as well. Flapping her large ears around, narrowly missing him, she started to whisper just loud enough for him to hear.

"Don't look now, but, ah, she's walking over here."

Simba, of course, turned his head around quickly to look. Jerking back to stare out over the newly made river in shock. Stiffy he pretended not to notice her footsteps as she crossed the distance and came to stand at the bank.

Slowly he came to realise that perhaps he should stop staring out at some unseen point in the clouds, and instead turn to greet her. Simba turned as if he was made of stone, gulping as he took the sight in. She was the single biggest beast he had ever seen, and she would probably retain that honour for the rest of his life. Those tusks were as long as him! Her own tiny eyes looked down at him closely, like she was trying to strip the skin off him with her gaze alone.

Technically, their eyes were bigger than his own, but they were peering out of such a huge beast that they looked positively shrunken. She drew in a breath and opened her mouth, Simba braced himself-

"Hello..." It was kindly and soft. Simba wasn't sure if he was more nervous or less. "... little king."

More nervous, much, _much _more nervous. The habit these outlanders had of calling all lion kind kings never failed to strike his heart so fierce it stopped and spluttered.

"Having a good day?" She smiled, and then moved away like she was being pushed along on a gentle breeze, aimless and carefree. Simba watched, as she went to some trees and reached up to forage the leaves.

"Wow, you really are scared of her." Nothing about her grandmother seemed scary, not a single hair on her hide had an ounce of evil possibility. "It's like she's the Monster of the Mountain in your eyes." Masikio frowned as she shifted her legs through the mud. "Do you know something I don't? Has she been slinking around at night, scaring little children?" Simba made a frown to match her own.

"Monster...of the Mountain?" He said, like he was trying the words out for the first time.

"Huh? Surly you know about the Monster of the Mountain?" The cub shook his head.

"But you live in the jungle, how could you not! I come from far out, and even I grew up knowing about it!" When his puzzled expression never changed, Masikio felt like rolling on her back and screaming at him. He was _living_ in that jungle, and he didn't even know the most basic things about it. Who was raising this cub? When her mind immediately answered with _a hog and a rat_, she stopped being so annoyed and instead tried to remember how her mother had always explain it.

"The Monster of the Mountain is a dark legend, about an unstoppable, unseen beast. Many, many years ago, it woke up one day, its growls so loud rocks tumbled and the echoes reached all the way to the lowlands. It caused so much trouble as it thrashed and roared over the weeks, that a hundred of the lands bravest and strongest marched up to defeat it. No one came back. My great-great grandmother was one of them. So that's my grandmother's grandmother. We pass the story down, but over time lessons become legends, you know? It's also why there ain't any lions here anymore."

"There used to be lions? What happened to them?" She pushed some more of the lovely mud over her, smiling at her new friend's confusion over how they could just vanish.

"Well, all the lions went up, and none came down. No one really goes up there anymore, except for some real recluse characters and travellers who don't know." She scooped some more mud over her skin. "Your guardians must be pretty brave, or stupid." Simba thinks that he knows exactly which one they are.

"They were driven away by their own kind, I think the summit was the last place they could go with peace. At least, now it makes sense why it's so empty up there." Simba gritted his teeth as he thought about the ominous legend. Should he be afraid? He had lived up there for months, and it had been nothing but tranquil. Pumbaa and Timon had lived up there for even longer, and they never talked about such a monster.

After several minutes of silence, Masikio forgot all about Simba, lost in deep thought, and rolled to lie on her belly. She realised her mistake when a scream pierced her ear, as the cub went sailing into the mud. He groaned and growed, generally making a massive fuss and getting himself even dirtier.

"Oops," she apologised sweetly. The look that she received then was no ordinary death glare, it was one of a kind. Masikio apologetically lifted her trunk, making as if to lift him out of the mud. He grudgingly complied. Just as she had her trunk around him, and had started to lift his weight up, she flipping him and pushed him deeper into the mud, cackling madly the entire time. When tens of thin claws dug into her sensitive trunk, she knew it was time to retreat.

Ripping her trunk up, he held on and was lifted into the air before his claws slipped and went plummeting back into the soft and healing mud. His four legs were splayed wide in the typical cat-falling-to-their-accepted-doom position. She was familiar with it – he spent a lot of time falling when with her.

Lunging out, she was off and trotting for her herd before he could splutter out a word.

Simba stayed low in the mud, letting it ooze through his fur alongside his rage. He _hated_ this mud, it took his day to wash it out. The thin, thermal mud on the summit was in a whole another class from this gritty slop. Maybe it was because none of these animals had the pools on the summit to compare, and that was why they didn't mind it as much? Most likely it was because of how the river muck clung and stained him, while the thermal mud simply soothed. There was something about his fine golden fur that made dirt rub in and refuse to leave. The river, filled with pure rain water, ran cheerfully some meters away. He started to drag himself out of the half solid grime and head towards it. Skin care, pah! Stops sunburn, pah! Feels good in the cracks, pah! Lifting out of the mud, he was one dark glob with burning red eyes glaring out. She will pay... one day...

After lying a bit in the shallows of the river, and taking a paddle around, Simba emerged to sunbake in the cleanest stop he could find. With eyes closed and face turned up towards the sun, he purred and purred, occasionally licking his fur when it started to itch underneath. He was so still and had such a gentle look about him that the animals close by became at ease with him. Birds picking insects from the mud wondered closer than they ever had, and dragonflies would constantly land on him, entranced by the dirty gold colour. Imagine their reaction if they saw it clean.

A falcon swooped down upon the river, plucked something from the surface, and carried it over to Simba's section of the bank to quickly dismember. The falcon landed on top of its catch, something small which was thrashing and croaking. He used his strength to push his talon right through the undeveloped skull and out the other side. The hatchling screeched widely for a second before dropping dead.

The falcon looked up to Simba with a smile, aware of his audience the entire time.

"Hard to believe what they grow into, eh?" He shrugged with his wings and dropped to start ripping strips of flesh off the crocodile, swallowing the meat whole. After a few minutes of picking around the bones and eating the rich organs from the gut, the eagle threw it towards Simba with a crackly laugh.

"More easy pickings than I know what to do with these days. Have the rest cat, rare chance to taste a croc." He spread his wings, watching silently with a cocked head as Simba leaned over to sniff at the hatchling. "A hundred hatched today, and a hundred will hatch tomorrow. Watch it doesn't bite." Simba jerked back at his warning, making the falcon laugh as he flew off.

He watched as the flies started to gather and lap at it. A minute ago that thing had been enjoying the sun upon his back as he floated upon the river. Now he had just... stopped.

"Turning down a meal? Croc not your thing?" Simba nearly broke his neck from whipping around so fast. The matriarch stood behind him, eyes drifting from him to the carcass. She had probably watched the whole scene.

"I, argh, no. I'm not – it's not a preference, I just, ah, am not that hungry right now." He tried to focus on breathing in and out, even and slow.

"Not that hungry? You're a growing lion. I thought your lot could eat a buffalo a day without breaking a sweat." Was that an insult? It might have been.

"Well, I don't... really..." He stopped trying to explain himself when she took a step closer and poked the hatchling with her trunk, causing the flies to jump into the air and swirl madly.

"Haven't done much killing, have ya?" She flicked it onto its back, and the flies greedily swarmed and buried into the gash the falcon had ripped.

"No – not much – well, I suppose I kill a lot of bugs..." He trialled off, watching the flies start to fight amongst another, ignoring how she seemed ready to burst out laughing.

"Bugs?" She said with a barely there chuckle. "I always wondered how the predators thought about their food; I had so many theories. Yet here you are, a king, unable to bear the thought." Her ears flapped many times over in a show of her humour at the whole situation. "What do you see when you look at this croc?"

Simba studied the carcass, wondering what the right answer was.

"A... baby crocodile?" The matriarch eased back on her heels and took a step back.

"You see what was living, and who it used to be?" Ergh, was that a question or just a statement. Simba was on the brink of a reply til she started to talk again. "Hm, you're not being raised by a pride, right? My granddaughter says you live with a warthog and some sort of rodent." Simba nodded his head very, very slowly.

"Would you like a herbivore's perspective? A prey animal, if you will?" Simba, again, nodded his head very, very slowly. She swept her trunk over the croc one more, seeming perfectly at ease with the death.

"It is not a crocodile, nor is it a baby anymore. It is just flesh, used and left behind. It has gone, and its spirit returned to the earth, or wherever the crocodiles go." She gestured to herself then, the grasping tip of her trunk clutching at a roll of her own skin. "This here is not me, just like that there is not it. We are spirits, and this that we have, it is the flesh of the animal. It was gifted to me to use, and one day I will have no use, and it will belong to all animals once again. A creature will eat it, and grow, making their own flesh bigger, and creating the flesh of their children from it. One day their spirit too will pass, and their flesh will return to the animal once again. To feed the trees, and feed the herds, or feed the next beast, it does not matter." She then picked the baby up with her trunk and put it before him. "Its mother ate flesh, and grew from it, and made this child from it. Flesh was taken, and flesh is given. Flesh is not ours; it belongs to all animals, cycling around and around. This flesh belongs to you, as it belongs to me and once it. You should make a meal of it, something as precious as muscle and blood, gifts of the animal; it should not be left to waste."

He looked up at her, and she looked down at him. Silently, she left; her herd already disappearing into the trees as they searched for shade. The day was heating up, climbing its way to be one of the muggiest and hottest days he had ever felt. A few minutes later Masikio ambled over to tell him they were moving on. Mumbling that he might just stay here, she shrugged.

"Alright, well it was nice of you to spend the day. I might not see you for awhile. Me and Grandmother are going away, for my ceremony. I should be back in two days or so, but don't wait up, okay?"

Simba nodded, and she patted him on the head before leaving, making him smile and bat her trunk away.

Flesh that its mother took. Simba eyeballed the tiny thing at his feet, with tiny teeth lining its tiny jaws. He thought about how big he had seen the crocs get, and how they would need to take flesh to grow. He thought about his own tiny foot swallowed by the paw print of his father. How much more flesh was that, for a lion like him to grow? He thought about how their bodies became the grass. She called it the cycle of flesh. Flesh of the animal. He called it the circle of life. All connected.

Simba sat and stared down at the flesh of the animal for hours. His mind whirling, screeching to a halt whenever it went in a direction too painful to follow.

The day boiled and boiled, and when afternoon came it did not evaporate. Instead it clung. Clung like Simba's mind to the elephant's words. It wrapped around the animals like Simba's teeth wrapped around the flesh, and it settled and lay across the land like Simba did beneath the trees.

He waited through to evening, remaining until the temperature dropped. However it never did, even when it grew later and later, the sunset starting to peel around the sky. When he opened his eyes and looked, he realised why it was so.

The strangers arrived just ahead of the storm. They came along the bank of the river, and Simba had to squint to see them from the bright rays of the sunset. Four beasts too tired to notice him. Their hooves sunk in the mud as they marched along, each step followed by a pop of the mud as they yanked their feet free. There was even a mystic tinkering in the air, a sound that reminded him of nuts and fruit, ore mixed into clay, and herbs scrubbed into his fur.

Simba snuck glances as they passed by the tree he was dozing under. Intrigued beyond belief. Not so far away, cloudless thunder stomped the earth, as if a great beast who never slept had chased them in from the outer lands.

He did not pretend to think that he knew every animal here, but he could tell they were new. Haggard with travel and dirty with soil from another place, their heads were low with fatigue, but their steps were a stiff, quick march that never relented. It was the pace of an animal who had travelled so far and with such need that their body now felt like it was not capable of stopping. Simba experienced it once, when he crossed the sands all alone, the ghost of Upweke pushing him on.

But why were they travelling so late? Why were they only making it here now?

If that alone was not enough to give their foreign nature away, then there was also the fact that their kind was rare in these lands. The powerful barrel of their chests and narrow legs struck a homesick cord deep, deep, down in the dark of his heart. Small twisted horns crowned their heads, and their shaggy manes flipped to the gait of their march. He had only seen three of their kind in Arusha, and all were old, bitter beasts with injuries along battle-battered bodies. The two half-grown calves that marched along were the first he had seen since... a long time ago.

Besides, if even _that_ alone was not enough to give it away, then the sight that he saw when they final moved past him, and the sunrays stopped burning his eyes, would definitely have given them away as strangers. And from very distant lands too. He had never seen animals like that, not in his whole entire life. The manes of the two calves was _orange _instead of black, and their fur _purple_ in the place of grey. Dark stripes of rich black laced over their backs and guts, making gleaming zebra strips in the dusk light.

Simba considered following them, his curiosity itching to kill him. But when his paws quietly touched upon the ground, the coming night became apparent. Craning his neck up, Simba looked to see that the top of the tree was still encrusted with golden light, but it was weakening by the second. It was time for him to head off, remembering what awaited tonight. He quickly set off through the uneven grass, excitement buzzing, following the gentle slope of the land away from the river. Everything was alive at this time of day, the grass hummed with insects. Clinging to each blade was hundreds, who swarmed and lulled with the wind. Simba weaved his way through it, along paths worn down to the rock by thousands of animals. Tiny birds chased the tiny bugs, swopping and falling through the air to eat and avoid being eaten.

Flesh, being given and taken, an endless circle.

Speeding up to a lazy run, his growing legs kept pushing and pushing him forwards, until it felt like he was flying too. His nose was filled with only good things, fresh water and growing plants, the coming rain and herds thick with beasts.

The cub thought about what had been and what was now, studying the land around him as he passed through it, hardly disturbing a thing. He thought about nature in a way few animals had the space of mind to. However it would be quite a while until he realised this.

At some point while he ran, the busyness of dusk stopped and held her breath. There wasn't even a rustle in the trees thanks to the calm before the storm. His own pants felt like the only thing in existence as even the bugs paused, sensing the lull and instinct sending them quiet.

Damn it! It was starting already, without him! Halting, Simba looked up into the sky, searching amongst the young night for the first star along with every other beast in Arusha. In the distance, somewhere before him, a cheer started and spread, the voices rolling across the lands. Another group, by the lake, far, far away, could be heard. Their cheers were like that of a mosquito's whine. Simba's eyes darted through the colours of the sunset, around the storm front, and across every inch of sky, searching for what the others had found. Stepping to the side, he peered between the branches of trees that were turning black in the dusk.

He found it, too, the first star of the night, peering down from high, high above. A happy cry escaped his lips, before he choked suddenly and silently watched the second and third star bloom. The cheers of the other animals were still thundering, so Simba hurried on, thinking instead about tonight and the festival as he drew closer and closer, and less about the sudden hit of pain he had felt upon seeing that star. Two hundred or so animals had gathered at the start of the elevated land that, if a beast were to climb long enough, would take them all the way to the summit. The trees were a touch more jungle and fleshy, and the grass was lush and undamaged by the herds. Many had come up here tonight for the view across the lands and the fresh water that lay everywhere below. Everyone was so being wrapped in the celebration and cheers that they didn't notice him trot in between their legs, hurrying to find Timon and Pumbaa. As his eyes locked up a laugh Pumbaa, the deafening cheers turning into a chant.

Simba paused and looked up, searching the crowd around him. There were several giraffes next to him and they blocked out most of his view of the congregation. He threw himself forward, galloping up to Pumbaa to rub along his side and around his back before coming to a stop on the hog's other side, purring as he wrapped around his friend and the familiar scent of their family, a very unique smell, was shared amongst them. Looking in the same direction as Pumbaa, Simba forced himself to lift his eyes and admire the sight of the stars growing and blooming all along the sky. A compass or fireflies, balls of gas, gods, mythical beasts, oaths to swear upon or even a promised homeland, for every family the stars were significant. They cheered so loud that Simba couldn't even hear his own voice when he had said hello to Pumbaa.

He admired the stars because they were countless, because everyone else was so happy to see them, and because the stars were undeniably beautiful. It was the tradition of the festival. He didn't believe they were anything, just things up in the sky, like the moon, clouds and sun.

But really, deep, deep down in a dark part of him... he wondered what they thought of him, with his tail wrapped around the shoulders of a laughing and hooting hog, Timon jumping from the grass to walk along his spine and sit atop his head. Far far away from his homeland, in a place that might as well be off the edge of the world.

When the cheers had died down, the sky was lit with all the stars, and clouds were manifesting in the north. Happy conversations of the animals echoed around him, growing with excitement when the first strike of lighting blew up the sky and land up for an instant. Simba licked his nose and tore his eyes away.

"So, how did your day go?" Timon asked sweetly from atop his head.

"Good." Another lightning strike, too far away to be followed by a rumble. "How was yours?"

"Good. But I think you should ask Pumbaa instead of me. He had a _very _interesting day." They both turned to stare at Pumbaa in unison, Timon sucking his bottom lip in to stop a conspiring chuckle, Simba with a soft smirk.

"Aaaaaaaahhhh-" the hog scratched his head, looking away. Simba raised his brows at that reaction.

"How did your day go, Pumbaa?" His guardian continued to look away and shift uncomfortably, an uneasy chuckle starting.

"Arrrhhhhhhh-" deciding he wasn't getting anything out of Pumbaa, Simba looked up to Timon.

"Is it funny because it went bad, or went well?" Timon hid his wide smile behind Simba's ear. Surprisingly it was Pumbaa who jumped in to answer.

"Well. It went very well. Um, rather well you could say-" Simba picked up on the slip like the predator he was.

"_Very_ well?!" He teased, his smile starting to grow more and more wild. Timon whisper evilly into his ear. _Pumbaa was invited to join a warthog clan_.

"Oh." Simba's smile instantly dropped. "Are you going to join?"

Pumbaa nearly screeched his reply. "No no _no_ no, I don't think I could. I mean, I'm an outcast, and you guys!" He waved his hooves around, encompassing everything around them as if to explain.

"It's alright if you want to, if any of you had a chance to have a family again, I want you to take it." He watched the way Pumbaa's face pinched, and felt the way Timon's fingers clutched as his ear tighter.

"But we already have a family!" Timon puffed.

"Aren't we, like, more of a brotherhood then anything?" The animals were starting to walk around and spread out, giving them more privacy on their patch of grass. A few had cast Simba looks when they noticed him, but no one was making a fuss yet.

"Isn't a brotherhood the strongest type of family!" Another lighting strike, this one with thunder rolling after it, making Timon pause what he was saying. "You have to tell him the best part, Pumbaa."

"I don't really... isn't he a bit young?"

"For what? Get this Simba, so the clan's head honcho went and died during the dry, and they've been on the lookout for a new 'strong male' and all that. And - now this is the part I really can't believe - they want _Pumbaa_. They think he's so _strong _and _brave_, living free in the jungle and being the master of a lion and all that. Pfftt..."

Simba looked between Pumbaa and Timon, searching their faces once again. Timon left his family, but Pumbaa was thrown away. He knew that the sensitive warthog was still affected by what had happened to him, and something like this, to be accepted again, to be wanted...

"I think you should go, Pumbaa." His friend's ears lifted in surprise. "Really?" Simba knew from the widening of his eyes that he had hit the correct nerve of this situation.

"But – Simba!"

"But, Timon?" His dry words made the meerkat huff and cross his arms. Timon was fiery and self absorbed, but he put his friends first (eventually) and, if he just took the time to think about it, he would come to realise. "It's not like it will be forever, a season or two. Don't warthogs fight amongst each other all the time?" Timon's ears lifted, while his eyelids dropped in thought.

Another lighting strike, casting the small creature in platinum white.

"Hmph, yeah, I suppose. Go have a little holiday, me and the kid will have tonnes of fun without you. Might even make some new friends. Once your done with the boring family routine, you can come back and join us in _living the dream_." Then he waved his arms around with an angry 'pah!' before jumping off and marching away with head held high.

"I think he is happy for you." Simba chuckled. Pumbaa scrunched up is nose in doubt. "Hey, listen Pumbaa, Timon left his family because it was 'boring' and 'wasn't working' and all that, but you deserve to be in a clan and experience what your own kind is like. I know I'm really happy for you, and I think you should definitely introduce me. I'll try my best to be big and scary." Pumbaa nodded, his eyes looking the most steely they had been in a long time, and got to his feet.

"Okay, if you think its best." Simba sighed through his nose, upset by that response.

"I think you should do what you want," he corrected.

"Oh, okay. Then I'll go find her then, and let her know." With that he trotted off, shaky at first, but the further he got the more bounce enter his steps, until he was prancing along like the happiest pig in the world.

He watched him go, trotting around where a large group of seven or so zebra were lying. By their side was a small clan of baboons, the children ripping up grass and racing around while the rest talked softly. Simba laid down and disappeared into the grass, his ears tuning into the conversations tinkering around him.

Every now and again the baboons would laugh, their hoots rolling down the hill, and sometimes the zebras would whine to get another's attention. The giraffes were the quietest beast on the hill, their heads bent together in the rare times they exchanged hushed words. The noisiest animal happened to be one of the smallest. The baby hippo had tucked itself into the side of her huge mother, yawning and bellowing. She was too young for words yet, so instead she just cried and complained. Simba twirled and pricked his ears to all the sounds, alert as the crashing for a big beast started to draw close. Not realising Simba was there due to the thick grass, he stopped and huffed while surveying the festival. Then, he took a massive breath, and bellowed out a name. Everyone close by paused, carrying on casually when he had finished calling. He stayed by Simba, tail swishing through the grass and over his rump in agitation. He smelt like he had tried to be clean and tidy for the festival, no dung dried to his skin or mud layers, not even the smell acquainted by weeks of sweating under the sun.

"Relax, she'll be here," a small voice soothed. The big beast huffed again, Simba expected an angry voice, but his words shook with racing nerves.

"But I can't find her anywhere, and I've been looking for hours."

"Not exactly hours, drama queen, but is it her fault you came thirty minutes early? All you said was to 'meet up on the hill during the festival'. Perhaps she thought mid way through the festival, instead of before it?" Simba quietly stretched his neck up to get a look of the buffalo that stood nervously a meter away. He was big and black, horns nearly grown into the average size, weight yet to fill in and create the unmistakable shape of a bull. One more season and he would be a full grown male, but for now he was at the limit of sub-par. A little tick bird was fluttering about him, grooming his coat and triple checking his friend. Simba didn't think he had ever seen a buffalo's coat shine in the moonlight, but this one's did. For such a dirty animal, he had made himself remarkably clean.

"Hey, who's that down there?" The bird's mirth shone through his words, making Simba smile as well at the buffalo. He started taking uneasy steps forward, his heart starting to beat even faster.

"Ah, it's her. Oh my gosh, do I look okay? I look stupid don't I? Can she see me? Should I -" The bird squawked loudly to stop his downward spiral.

"Just walk down there and say hello, gees, how long have you two known each other?" He stayed on his friend's side until the buffalo made his way past the sitting zebra. Fluttering away and onto a striped rump, he tweeted at the buffalo to 'keep an eye out for her father' causing the beast to look wildly around.

Simba chuckled softly in the grass.

The bird groomed the zebra, looking for some dinner. After finding nothing on the beasts – they too had cleaned up for the festival – he flew off, swooping over Simba before making a turn to land by him. Simba's eyes snapped wide open to stare at the small animal who was currently looking him up and down.

"Leopard?" Simba nearly laughed at him.

"No, just a lion that was dumped in mud." Timon had warned him about these birds, how most were pretty useless, only taking the ticks off once they were filled with blood. How they would peck open healing wounds to get at the soft flesh. Simba didn't have any big wounds right now, but he was always laced with small scabs. He didn't feel like having those pecked open. He didn't need physical wounds opening to match his mental ones, thank you very much. The bird's feathers puffed out as he squeaked.

"Ah, dirty? Want a clean?" He hopped to a closer stalk of grass, his head inspecting Simba at each angle possible.

But maybe those warnings were just Timon's nature, and not true at all. After all, _he _groomed Pumbaa and Simba, they were _his _herd and his alone. Simba thought that he picked up the behaviour from the monkeys, but while down in Arusha, he had seen a beast incredibly similar to Timon groom upon creatures who wallowed in the mud. It was spooky to see them, a clone of Timon if not for the fur and lithe face, clean the skin and pick ticks from a young warthog with sunburn along one side.

"I don't get cleaned."

"Hm, too bad, because you look dirty. I thought cats were always well groomed."

"Not this cat," Simba exclaimed proudly. The bird cleared his throat, either displeased or happy of a possible meal.

"Being clean is import."

"You're starting to sound like my mother." Simba regretted those words as soon as they came out of his mouth, maybe even before that, when they were falling out of his brain. But they were said so casually, he didn't have a second to pause. Pumbaa and Timon said that phrase all the time when someone got nagging, but Simba had never. Time healed it, but speaking the name peeled off the scab anew. Maybe on any other night he could have handled it without the pain being visible on his face, but not now. Not with the ways these stars were pinning him down, their stares burning the back of his neck. The air was growing foul tonight.

"Where _is_ your pride?" And then, voice dropping to a whisper, "did you come here with those other two?" His confusion must have been readable. "Two kings, big grown ones."

"Where? Here, in Arusha?" The bird gasped. Simba felt mildly amused - this was a seasoned gossiper. He supposed it made sense, the groomer birds spent their days flittering amongst the herds. They were perfectly placed to be the life blood of rumours.

"You haven't heard? It's all anyone can talk about since it happened. The hyena _killed_ them, and left their bodies under the _nut trees_. Display their strength I expect, certainly did the job!" The bird laughed at that, but it died in his throat when he saw Simba's expression. "So you did know them?"

"No, but, I might. Maybe." Simba's mouth started to run so dry he had to swallow before he choked. Was it Scar, trying to track him down? One of his father's men? Some guards hunting him down? And the _hyena_ killed them? He had only known one clan of hyena strong enough to kill the lions. Visions of the scraggily red lion from the wastelands flew through his mind. The sensation of hiding behind Upweke's hoof, peering out as his carcass was dumped on the ground, as weightless as a bird. Was it those hyena? The ones who had killed Upweke? Had they spent all this time searching for him, crossing the sands for him, waiting for him to show up...

The red lion from the wastelands, he had been small for an adult. Maybe these lions were also small, maybe they were young.

_Like him._

Simba did choke that time. He had to find out. To look upon the faces and see. Were they dead because of mistaken identity? Mistake for him? Or was it his family, or maybe something more? Survival instinct at its most basic started to flood him.

"Ah, would you mind giving me directions?" He had no idea where these nut trees were. He didn't think it was possible, but the bird managed to make an expression like that of scrunching his nose.

"The bodies? It's a bit disgusting..." The level of their conversation was still at a whisper.

"Please, I need to check." The bird looked around, avoiding his eye before huffing and rolling his head around with a dramatic _argghhh._

"Well, okay. As long as you agree to my conditions." Simba nodded his head curtly. "I'll take you, and you'll let me clean while you walk. We will travel quickly, and don't you start trying to eat me half way there." Simba didn't mind those conditions. He grunted his agreement before getting to his feet. The bird jumped to his shoulder and instructed him down the hill and southwards before experimentally poking a coat that was unlike his usual customers.

Yes, Simba realised as he passed between the happy crowds and out into the empty lands, there was definitely something creeping upon Arusha tonight. He tucked his head lower, stepped lighter, and quickened his pace. With two dead lions and killer roaming in the night, his land had unfortunately taken a change. Simba could admit, with no beasts to affect the atmosphere, the natural mood was foul and raw.

The bird's hard beak ran between his fur, pulling out the loose hair and starting to inspect his neck and chest for bugs. Even he was strangly silent, picking up on Simba's manner, and perhaps that of their land was well. After giving him directions to follow a particular trial, he pull harshly at the sensitive flesh behind his arm. Simba jerked his arm up to elbow the bird, who had been clinging upside down. The bird snapped at the offending arm, screeching at him.

"A tick! It's a tick! I get it out for you."

"A tick?" Simba echoed with venom, there wasn't much belief there. He knew what it was like to have ticks, Sili had once pulled tens of him from him. "Show it to me." He snapped, waiting motionless as the bird started to expertly tug. It stung, more that it had with Sili, but Simba held still. Bird finally straightened, leaning close to Simba so he could inspect the half bloated tick he held. Casually, he lifted his head and dropped the parasite into his gullet.

"There's been an outbreak since the rains, all remerged from the ground at the same time, and they covered everything. You wouldn't believe some of the horror cases I've seen. A cow had all in the ears, rows of them packed together. There was some thousand of them climbing up this tree, right, couldn't even see the bark. You wouldn't want to brush up against that, I tell ya."

Simba didn't think he had ever been this grossed out, not in his entire life. The urge to inspect and groom every single inch of his body hit him, another powerful new feeling. He settled for shivering, and telling Bird to keep it up.

"A lot died from the thirst before, but now it would be blood loss if the herds don't manage this outbreak right." He chuckled weakly. "I guess that's good news for you." Simba visibly flinched, not from the words, but from the mental image of his food being covered in ticks.

Erghhhhhh_hhhhh._

Just, focus on the path. Simba took several deep breaths, tuning Bird completely from his mind and focusing on making his way. The journey passed quickly after that, though a few times concentration was broken when two more ticks were found. One inside his ear, another on his chest. Bird said they were only fresh, considering how small they were, and how he hadn't noticed them yet. Simba wondered when it would have been. By the river? In the grass? The mud?

Simba was blaming the mud. For the pure reasons that he hated it and it felt like something karma would do.

He could smell that they were close far before Bird told him. The dead had a scent of their own. This could well be the origin for all the foulness, it certainly smelt powerful enough. Once the tops of the nut trees were in sight, Bird fluttered away to perch in the grass.

"I will wait here. Bad luck to look upon dead kings." He tucked his wings close before crouching deeper into the grass, as if scared of what lurked beyond. Going on, Simba's body was starting to feel the strain from how aware he was forcing his sense to be. Or maybe it was just the volatile mixture tension and adrenaline. Slipping out from the Arusha grass, he realised with a flash of memory that he did know of this place. It was the super pass, the way most came into Arusha. The ground was incredibly flat, giving the large rains nowhere to run. Miles upon miles of flood water shimmered in the waning moonlight. From this lake, the nut trees raised on an island of their own. All save a small sliver of the animals came and went past these trees. It was the perfect place to make a statement. Simba gingerly stepped into water so shallow it struggled to cover his toes. He felt exposed out here, with the grass to his back. The ground by the nut trees was mud, rock, beginnings of moss and not much more. It was an extremely slimy type of mud, one that made a foot slip out from under him more than once as he made his way closer. It was hard to see the flies, but he could hear them. Thousands, more than the tales of the ticks it seemed. When he walked close and disturbed them all into flight; it was like the dead lions were roaring.

It really seemed that luck and good fortune was on the side of the smallest creatures this season. Blinking, Simba peered closer, chills running along his skin. He wondered what that meant for the biggest creatures.

Dark skies, dark fate... dark fur, dark mane.

He padded around to see its face, screaming at himself not to, but trapped in a trace. The body was horrendously tattered. Some parts where so bad that Simba would have heaved if not for his experience scavenging off corpses during the recent weeks. A back leg was gone, only a small stretch of white bone and limp muscle left. With his attention draw to its legs, he remembered morbidly his own uncle's legs. He used to scurry around underfoot, and sometimes a paw would bat out to push him away.

This was not Scar. His uncle had cream fur on his toes, making his black claws even blacker, and a similar colour underbelly. This lion had no lightness, not a single speckle upon him. His coat was solid, unbroken maroon. And his mane was different, short and shaggy. It was incredibly thick, so the lion's face was covered well. Simba decided that was a good thing, and turned away. He only knew one dark lion, and it was not him. Going over to the other body, which was sprawled quite a distance from the first, he found out where the missing limb had gone.

Sidestepping, he promptly ignored everything around him in favour of putting one foot in front of another. The night was extremely dark, with the coming storm starting to block the moonlight. It wasn't until he was beside the other, that Simba realised his fur was almost black. Simba didn't know that was possible. He supposed it shouldn't be surprising. If pure white was possible, as he had heard, and if gold, red, brown and everything in-between was common, then this almost pitch colour wasn't that strange at all. The hyena had taken care for its face to be visible, lying the corpse prone and one its back. The way the eyes stared out, dry and open, with throat slashed and savaged made Simba stop breathing.

This was the bigger lion. Cautiously, a curiosity gripped him when he noticed the lion's paw lying twisted around. Simba softly lifted his and pressed it against the chilled pad.

He was still absolutely diminutive, not even half the size. Not _even._

Simba stepped back quickly, eyes raking over the scene. They had been dead for days, and stunk dreadfully, but nothing had dared touched them. Only the flies, who were too simple for fear and concepts, touched their flesh. Simba supposed the only beast brave enough to eat the lions were the hyena, and they wanted them for trophies.

They were monstrous in size, full grown, no doubt. Fierce, all their muscles and scar's still there for Simba to see.

Two full grown lions. Killed.

Full grown.

_Two._

Simba licked his lips. Mouth suddenly dry and numb, his whole body in a similar shocked state. It was time to go back, and by back he meant so far up that mountain not even _he _was aware he existed.

Someone was watching him. He flicked his ears back, listening to the rustle of the nut trees and the bubble of flood water rippling. That shallow water was between him and them, he knew because he couldn't pick the sounds of their breathing or heartbeat. Just the prickling feeling of a stare. No matter how far they truly were, it felt like they were breathing down his neck.

Ever so slowly, he turned.

A shape, the water sharply calm around it. Storm clouds rolled in the sky and churned underneath the figure's feet. Briefly, the storm cell allowed the moon to flash and the stunning face of a hunched, grey gnu glowed. Her eyes were shadowed by fragile horns, but Simba knew they were watching him.

Then, it was like the world took a breath, held it, and then sighed. Rain started to drizzle silently, shattering the mirage of the figure floating in the sky, revealing her to be nothing more than a gnu standing in the flood water.

A simple gnu with a gaze that made his bones shield away. A tail of wind walked by them, making something that hung from her horns rattle. He was assaulted with memories, of a ghostly thumb running across his forehead.

Then, the drizzle turned into a plunging waterfall, and she disappeared from view in the white wash. Simba spun and raced away, forgetting all about Bird. Even if he had, he had run in the wrong direction, entering Arusha at a different place. The flood water chased him, his paws always striking water as he ran. Grass slashed at him as he flew, frogs marched out into the rain, excitement driving droves of them on.

It was different from the frogs of the summit. They sung poetically about their home and their love, but these of the lower lands...

'_Eat! Eat! Eat! Eat!'_ They cried were like a war drum, thrashing him on, the hooves of the gnu stampede, bearing him down.

A monster came that night. Its thrashing heard by even him, from all the way out on the edges. The air smelled foul and raw, and it was not the dead to blame.

Simba admitted that.


	9. Not In Front Of The Kids!

Not In Front Of The Kids!

_Two Lionesses, somewhere Dusty and Quiet:_

_What have you gathered?_

_She's from the far north. The pride is a major power, and they rule upon an ancestral seat that can be traced back to the last of the Old Ways. They do not rule like the Pridelander's, and do not pass laws and hold court. However just having claim to the land has made her pride wealthy with power and influence. Their breed is dark in appearance and they grow up to be lithe and smooth. They look more like hunters than warriors, which is ironic because they spend much more time at war then peace. They are prone to restlessness with neighbouring tribes as well as feuds amongst each other. All that we can gather of her specifically is that she is viewed as a threat to the current chief, even though she is his little sister and expresses little interest in the pride. She has was a rouge for most of her life._

_Good... very good. Rouges disappear all the time, and a pride that fears her won't come searching, will they?_

_No._

_Hmm, it's almost perfect. Lithe, you say?_

_Lithe and smooth._

* * *

_Detective Maasi, out somewhere Chasing Leads:_

This pride was a hard one, their attitude and nature reflecting the territory they lay claim to. The males had to fight for every scrap of social standing they had, constantly working to remain within the family. It made them harsh and brittle. The lionesses were always on edge, searching for orders or food, forged into soldiers by pure need alone. Disciplined, effective, blunt.

Some pride members reflected their land more so than others. Hostile, ruthless and _barren_.

The leadership circle was the worst of it, as hidden and misleading as the desert herself.

However, where most lionesses would have been unsettled by the pride, Maasi was a mixture of unconcerned and too preoccupied. She had lived amongst and once been a beast that would have rivalled this Wasteland pride for all they got. How had she ended up here, napping in the shade by her own den? She was a guest to the pride, verging on honoured guest of prestigious position. She was treated to whatever she demanded, not that she demanded much, and respectfully addressed by all, even the leadership circle. There was no need for her to ponder why, because this fact was painfully obvious.

They were a pride with ambition, aggression and cunning to match. They fancied themselves rulers of this domain, a stretch of territory semi-Wasteland, semi-Southerland. But best laid schemes and efforts stood to crumble as their pride dwindled. Half the beasts were sterile, and the rest suffered many complications when it came to child rearing.

She was a lone lioness, found lost in the middle of the Wastelands, cubs on the way and in no position to raise let alone survive the process. At least, that was what she let them assume. Half truths were easy for her to conjure and play along with.

They had meet by the Kudu's cave. She had been staking the cavern out for many days and nights, trying to find a way around the hyena clan. It amazed her that the hyena would care for a prey animal, but from what she had heard, this Kudu was no plain beast.

It was on the fourth night of waiting and watching that four other lions had arrived. Three lions and one lioness, moving like a hunting party onto the place. Maasi spotted the opportunity and went for it.

The deal was that she would aid them in getting through the hyenas, as long as they left the Kudu untouched for her to question. They told her that they weren't there to harm the Kudu, instead all they wanted was the orphan cub.

The cub? She had surprised herself with her ability to not physically jerk once they said that. Were they here for the heir, on behalf of some dark player or in an effort to increase their own power? Neither, it seemed. They were simply from a pride with little in the way of the next generation, and so had taken to adopting orphans. And indeed their word had proven true. The fight was over quickly, the hyena folding away and running off giggling, only a light sheen of blood covering their hides. They were more intelligent than she had given them credit for. Five fully grown lions was a force wise beast fled from.

The kudu, cornered where he lay in his cavern, told them calmly that there was no cub. He was long gone, half a year nearly he had left on his own. The four lions had been disgruntle, but after searching the place for cub scent, of which there was not even a linger, they left him untouched for her.

Her questions were simple ones to begin with, made up on the spot as she waited for the four to move out of hearing range. They consisted of revealing all the water sources in the Wasteland and where her long lost brother went. He was strangely compliant, giving her the information she wanted and apologising that he couldn't really help locate her brother. Once the four lions had wonder far enough away, she had hushed him with a question which struck fear into his heart.

_Where is Simba?_ His face didn't change, his eyes didn't widen, his nostrils didn't flair. The control he had was impressive and she noted briefly, in the back of her mind, what he was capable of. Unfortunately for him it was all useless, she was a predator, and he was prey. She could _smell _the fear she had struck within him.

_I am afraid I do not know who you are referring to_. It was at that point his heart started to pick up and race. He must have realised that the game was up after that, with the look she gave him, while his heartbeat pounded in his ears. A big swallow, followed with an attempt to collect his nerves. She waited patiently.

_It's the same answer I gave you and the others before. The cub left long ago_. Maasi resisted the urge to let her frustration show.

Why did you harbour him, instead of taking him back to his pride?

_I never kept him here. I simply tried to nurse him back to health, and left him to make his own decisions most of the time_. Then, his eye had narrowed dangerously onto her. _Besides, why on earth would I return him when he was running for his life? The cub was exiled by his own father._

_I don't believe you. His parents mourn him even now, his pride is kind. Running for his life_? She echoed the last sentence like she was asking herself more than the Kudu. The dark forces, perhaps?

_His father disowned him and passed the banishment decree, and his own uncle, hunted him to the ends of the Pridelands._

_How do you know this?_

_Small words add up_. He peeked at her from under his eyelashes. _And he was most talkative after nightmares. Only a cub. They crave comfort and say more than they ever realise._

After that, he refused to tell her anymore. She decided that there wasn't much more that she needed, anyway. She knew that Simba had been here, half a year ago, and had believed his life in danger.

When she mentioned ravens and the beasts they serve, she saw hatred bubble up in his eyes.

She needed no more. He was not a player, simply an old Kudu who had saved a cub, then lost said cub to the desert a long time ago. At least she knew she was headed in the right direction. Maasi had left him with a parting observation.

_There are many rumours of your strength, but you look very fragile tonight._

_I once was a strong beast, I'll admit, but my health is gone. _

She offered him a soft compliment and a rough apology as she left the cavern. He inclined his great horned head to her.

It was one of the most pleasant interrogations she had ever conducted, come to think of it.

She had travelled with the four lions for a week, tagging upon their hunts to get meat she didn't realise she needed so much. There was a lot she could learn from the natives in the short days she spent with them. Originally the goal was to learn how to survive better, make sure they really were just clueless orphan seekers, then be on her way.

She left it too long. The food was too good, and it was too hard to leave. She had underestimated how much of a toll her body would face, and quickly a new plan needed to be formed. It was funny when they brought her back to the pride, how everyone seemed to assume it was one of the three lions that had taken her. She had been travelling alongside them for a good two weeks by then and had hardly so much as brushed up against any, but rumours spread like illness, and every lion simply assumed it was one of the others. Did her hormones smell like a tiny two weeks? Maybe they did, she wasn't very knowledgeable of cubs in her own right, so maybe she was wrong in her assumptions.

She could see it in their eyes, the way they glanced at her slowly expanding womb. They think her a lone rouge, someone who would happily leave her cub behind once she was rid of it. They probably hoped for that, prayed even.

There was also something else there, within the leadership circle, the way they eyed her too. Like they were evaluating her worth and being incredibly pleased each time they did it. Either they were trying to get a handle on what her cubs were going to be like, or they were judging her. When it came to the barren lionesses, all who had made an effort to get on her good side, she felt like it was in regards to the cubs developing inside her.

When it came to the lions, thought, she realised that a fertile lionesses would be more of interest to them than a stranger's cubs.

She had three months. For three months she allowed herself to be dotted on by the pride. She lazed around and thought, long and hard. She thought about her cubs, of which she was gaining a steady protective sense towards. She thought about what she knew, and how incredibly upheaving she could become if she kept on the trail. She planned and plotted extensively, till it felt like she had exhausted all options and followed all trails to the point of death. There were many plans, each with their own positives and negatives, each that she was torn between in different ways. It wasn't until she was as bloated as a cow that she turned, looked upon her stomach and let a new strain of ideas enter her schemes.

She thought about the father, his wellbeing and his kingdom. What was his cub, and his heir. What her child's inheritance would be, what their place in the lands would be if she managed to carve that place out for them. Still most things were up in the air, and Maasi struggled to know. Usually she followed gut instinct, but her gut was currently busy being squished between her ribs.

It wasn't until her gave birth one night, and her single, perfect cub squeaked an annoyed squeak, that her decision was made. This _thing_ was the sole child to the King of the Pridelands. The heir to Priderock. And even disregarding those birthrights, she was still an incredibly special cub. Her grandmother was the legendary Uru, her great-grandfather was the almost mythical Mohatu. Their blood ran in her veins. They were her ancestors, and they now watched over. Her blood, 'royal' blood, 'true' blood, 'first' blood. There were many words for the strain of lions she came from. There were fewer words for Maasi's bloodline, but they carried the same infamy. War, shadow hunters, of the old ways...

It was strange how she had once had all these plans, but upon seeing her cub for the first time, they evaporated like fog on a desert day. There wasn't a trace of anything other than complete devotion.

Maasi had now become a mother; some might be inclined to think this made her softer and weaker. In reality, she had just become one of the most dangerous beasts alive.

That night, the ancestors showered the Pridelands with warm rain. The patterns of the wind threw the grasslands around and the trees grew ripened loads of fruit seemingly before the animal's very eyes as the centre of the storm passed over them.

Rafiki danced within it, unsure of what it meant, but knowing its importance all the same. His fur starting to grey, but his joints still fluid.

A child. Somewhere, a child.

_Mara. _She was named, after the great river of her mother's homeland. A water so deadly and strong even the might of the Gnu Migration froze on her banks.

* * *

_An Out-Of-The-Way Lioness, below Priderock's Shoulder:_

A young lioness lay at her brother's feet, motionless, blending in with the male to her side seamlessly. Her coat was grey like rain water and the brother's fur was but half a shade dirtier. Their resemblance to each other was uncanny, only growing more similar as they aged and filled their lanky young bodies. Black rimmed ears perked in interest and yellow eyes traced a flock of birds as they spun down from the darkening sky. For three days and three nights it had rained, and today, just in time, it had cleared, leaving a cloudless sky that seemed so much bluer than it had ever been. It was very fitting.

Today they were being appointed their mentors. Her brother hoped to be apprenticed to a warrior while she prayed for a mentor as lazy as her. It was the start of their official place in the pride, and the end of their cub hood. The ceremony was due to begin soon, but neither of the pair seemed in a rush to leave the den that had been their home all their life. It was expected for them to move away from their mother after today, so the day had been spent enjoying the last of the time they had.

Their mother walked up behind them, smiling softly at the identical looks they shot her. Nerves, _excitement_. Diku chuckled to herself as she studied her children; the volatile mixture of what they were feeling was visible in their tensed backs and keen expressions. When their King's roar rumbled through the rocks, they flicked to their feet and shared a desperate glance amongst each other.

Her cubs were so tense that they forgot to nuzzle her goodbye. Diku didn't mind that much. She stretched out upon the rock that was now solely hers, and watched as they dropped down along the rocky path, headed for the ceremony.

Her happiness for them lasted all of ten minutes, before she realised how lonely it suddenly became. Diku swiveled to look back at her den, a small, homely niche among the rocks. In the beginning it had been mother and her, but once mother took her rightful place beside Mufasa, it had just been her. Not that she complained, because by then she was due for the cubs she had carried all the way from the Lakelands, and it would have grown quite crowded.

This den was where she had raised her children, small things, morphing into big things before her very eyes. Tender moments with her babies, rainy nights only she remembers as they slept snuggled tight in her fur. It wasn't like she was never going to see them again; it was just that they weren't going to be a _family _anymore.

She knew what the other lioness would say to that._ Oh, to be a young mother again. I remember when my first little left the den, you get over it. You gotta watch out or you'll have grandcubs sneaking up on ya soon! You're free now, your own lioness! Embrace it, you've been looking out for those hairballs for too long, go have your own fun..._

Hmpft. Sure that thought did tempt her, but she wasn't like them, she didn't have a mate to curl up with and celebrate long, uninterrupted nights with. And it's not like she could just go out and get herself one. There were only, what, two unattached lions in the Pridelands, one was old enough to be her great grandfather and the other never had much chemistry with her. Diku kept itching to go down the rocks and involve herself with the ceremony, but knew that it wasn't proper. It was for the cubs and their new mentors only, plus the King. They had nothing like this back in the Lakelands, so she always failed to grasp the importance of such customs, but Diku had learnt to respect the Pridelanders' ways in the time she had been among them. She would have gone and mopped on the shoulder of her mother, but Sarabi was down in the ceremony too. The large flux of cubs meant that the pride was stretched for mentors, and her reluctant mother had been finally roped in. Mentally she catalogued the cubs in her head, working to distract herself from the sad mood.

There had been Naanda's two boys. They were a fair bit older than the other cubs, and had been assigned their mentor's three moons ago. It had been around the time that Scar's lioness had arrived in her pride's party. She remembers how one of the boys, Kalifa, had tried impressing the young niece with his new position, but the girl had know nothing about the system and became more confused than anything. The two boys weren't exactly sweet, even as small cubs they had never really been described in such ways. However it didn't matter when what took its place was intense loyalty and strength. Hodari had taken up the calmer boy, Kalifa, and their resident tough-as-bull-horns lioness had the more vindictive one, Enma, placed under her tulitage.

Tonight it was her two cubs and the five cousins. The youngest cubs among them, Nala and Berta, had been bumped up so that it could all be wrapped up in the same ceremony. Diku had a feeling that was Scar's meddling, since she knew Sarabi was adamant that the younger sisters have at least another month.

Diku chuckled as she thought of her late half-brother. Simba was the youngest of them all. He would have been pulling his hair out watching all the other cubs go on without him. She wondered what mentor he would have been paired with, and what sort of place he would have been trained for within the pride. He always talked about being a warrior, didn't he?

With a scowl aimed towards herself, Diku realised that he wouldn't have receive any of that. He would have been mentored under the King, just as he had been before his death, and his place would not have been in common roles like hunter, scout or warrior, but instead as rightful king.

It was customary to give your cubs a present upon completing their ceremony. She didn't have much to give, but she knew it wasn't a fancy object her children wanted. Maybe it was time she opened up about why she left the Lakelands, and why she never discussed their father.

Actually, maybe it wasn't. Too soon. She wasn't ready, and they weren't ready. Once they became grown adults, with the ability to understand to a higher degree.

Hmm, yes. Later, much later. No matter how much her daughter haggled and poked at her for information, they weren't ready for a truth which would sound so unreasonable and abstract to a lion born and grown within the Pridelander's culture.

Diku stretched before strolling back into her newly empty den. If only she could have been appointed as a mentor, the responsibility of training a cub would have been a nice distraction. Obviously she couldn't take her own children as apprentices, another Pridelander rule she saw no point in. But perhaps Berta or the quiet Sade? Those two lionesses were well on their way to becoming strong hunters, and she was one of the best at the current moment. Nala on the other hand... did that girl even need a mentor?

No. Too many of the hunting party were already being assigned cubs. If she went as well, the pride would start to struggle to feed itself. Who even was left? Herself, Dwala, Naanda, and Hono. Dwala and Naanda were experienced, Hono was still rather young, but it was a manageable, if not a slightly exhausting tag team. Only four lionesses running the full-time hunting stint? And they had to feed not only seventeen adults, but also nine rapidly growing cubs. Ancestors! It could work, barely, as long as the apprentices actually managed to make kills during their lessons.

When it came to the males, it was an even worse situation. Only Scar, Mufasa and the new Lakelander lion were without apprentices, all three for obvious reasons.

Curse them! Why did the season have to be so fruitful last year? Just because the lands seemed to be flowering and lush, suffering little to no dry season that created a unique climate upon the Pridelands. Moral had been at an all time high, she remember the stupidly extravagant party they threw when she and mother finally arrived. The King was recently engaged and the pride seemed set to waltz off into the sunset. Once one lioness started, the rest happily piled on.

If they could get through these coming seasons, and see these cubs grown into competent pride member, she knew the pride stood to gain a lot in terms of general power and place. She knew through her mother, who had been managing the entire process, that she was very pleased with what she had put in motion.

Deciding to get a leg up, and bored out of her mind, Diku hopped down her rocks and into the Pridelands. The growing night was a good one for some solo hunting. The Lakelander turned Pridelander flowed into her adopted homeland effortlessly. Her personal cave, tucked amongst the bottom of Priderock allowed her the freedom to drift in and out without cutting through the ceremony or disturbing others. It was one of the main reasons that she stayed there, instead of moving into the communal caves like her mother had.

The hyenas were quiet tonight. Most of the clan was out doing the patrols, stepping up to fill the spaces for tonight. Living among the bedrock meant she was the closest to the hyenas, and she was starting to grasp their ins and outs. The Pridelanders seemed to hold a strong aversion for the bone-crushers, but they weren't that many of the beasts back in the Lakelands. When the clan had first moved down to the dirt behind Priderock, she had toyed with the idea of shifting to a newer, quieter cave. However, after a few weeks of getting used to the clan, Diku came to live in a precarious sort of harmony. It was like a noisy flock of parrots had moved in, and she had simply come to terms with it. Feral laughs and screams no longer stirred her from midday naps, instead the noise easily filter out, along with the whistling wind.

Diku prowled along, stopping to drink her fill from a puddle when it crossed her path. Her eyes, enhanced in the night, darted around searching for a herd, or if she was lucky, a loner. The Pridelands buzzed, more alive now than it ever was during the day. It would slow down during deep night, before stirring back to life as a fresh dawn approached. She gnashed her teeth together as she moved, an old habit bore from long nights on the patrol. The twitch made the three empty spaces on her left jaw more apparent as she ran her tongue over those spaces - another old habit – one started when her gums had ached for seemingly months after they were smashed from her mouth. Half an hour passed pleasantly, it felt as if not only were the animals in good spirits, but the plants were enjoying themselves too. The three day rain had been very rich and fertile it seemed.

Detouring into a stretch of land that was rarely hunted by the native pride, too shrubby for them to bother, Diku slipped effortlessly underneath vines and between branches. She spotted many birds nesting for the night, grass peasants and ground fowls, but past them by. So quiet that they never stirred. After a few long minutes of creatively picking her way along the forest floor, the sounds of a bigger animal carried across the distance. Its noise slight but enough for an experienced hunter like her to pin down. Diku slipped even deeper into the dry forest, her black tipped ears twitching as she tried to pick up the noise again. She narrowly avoided prowling head first into a thorn trap, managing to pause immediately as the first thrones tickled her nose. Sidestepping the aggressive plant, she breathed a sigh of relief. It could have taken her _days_ to disentangle from the vines, not to mention how noisy it would have been – plus painful. When her son was young he had run into one, being such a small cub there was less vines that had to be pulled out of him, but it had still taken hours, and the thorns had given him wounds so deep he still carried little red scars under his coat. As a young mother in a strange land, it had traumatised her.

Something thrashed, perhaps caught on thorns? Maybe there was a few of these plants in the area. As quickly as it came the animal stilled and silence returned. She went, very cautiously, down a crater in the landscape, where the soil gave way to silver rock. Her soft paws kept her footfalls soundless. The clicking of hooves against the rocks was a giveaway, as another beast in the area shifted his weight. Diku slowed to a snail's pace as she felt her way down the dip in the earth and through some more low lying trees. When nearing the bottom, the wind lifted and she smelt the blood of an injured animal. For a few seconds this smell was her sole focus. She snuck closer and closer, her eyes glued to the outline of an antelope concealed in the grasses.

It was as she was threading through a particularly snarly shrub that she picked up the other scent in the area. She paused, drawing it in and redirecting her attention. It was of another beast who had crept underneath this very scrub. It was... familiar. It tingled along her memory. A lion, male? Diku inched back, searching for the source, the point where he brushed up against the trunk and along the ground. A male lion, she could pick it now. The concerning factor was that she couldn't recognise him. If he wasn't any of the Pridelanders, than this was a major problem. While on the subject of problems, the scent was ridiculously fresh. Guerrilla warfare had forged her well, and those instincts flew back to her. More silently than she had been before, if that was even possible, she slipped away from the wounded animal. Was he wounded from the lion, or was the lion here following the noise, just like her? Her eyes darted around, every twig and shaft of moonlight now a rouge lion lying in wait. Blood pumped through her body, heightening her state of mind.

Ingrained instincts was all she had when the male burst from his concealed ambush. She escaped with no injuries after a flurry of twisting and rolling. Obviously he thought it would be enough to send her running, but she never knew to stop when it was good for her. This was _her_ land, she was the one with a pride at her back, how dare he posture around in front of her. Enraged by his nerve to attack her, she threw herself back. She noticed with smugness that his larger body was causing problems for him. Slipping into another scrub she let him chase the disappearing end of her tail.

Diku knew she didn't stand a chance if it came to a battle of strength; the brief lighting attack they had exchanged was enough for her to feel that he was far bigger, solid muscle wrapped around heavy bones, but she stood a chance in this terrain. She headed for the thorn vine that had nearly captured her a minute ago. Surging up the incline, her claws scrambled over the rocks as she tried to press the advantage for all she had. She brushed within an inch of the infamous vines, teeth as sticky as sap running like razors along where they hung innocently. She wrapping around the other side of the large clump. The plant seemed to be growing around and through a particular group of smooth barked trees. She peeled around so it was between her and him as he cleared the slope in one large leap. Catching her out of the corner of his eye, he charged blindly, plunging himself in between the low hanging branches. He roared with hurt and surprise as thorns gripped him. The older vines were covered in what looked like the talons of eagles, and the youngest were coated in hundreds of tiny curling hooks. They gathered across his chest and head, clutching at him and yanking him to halt. That whole section of scrub gave a loud zipping sound as the vines were lifted and pulled. The plant was a mature one, and the foundations held unfazed, its hooks relishing in the opportunity to grapple. The trees leaned before flexing back up, a shower of dried leaves raining down. When he tried to back out the vines managed to clutch him tighter, lassoing and gripping him more securely with each move he made. The attacker quietened, his body shivering and flinching as the pain started to be processed more clearly.

It was dark and had been a long time since they last met, and the blood scent blanketed the area. She felt those were good enough excuses for why she didn't recognise him the moment she stood back and took him in. In her defence, the thicket obscured his profile and made for a very dark environment, hardly any moonlight was creeping through the canopy. Besides, he had attacked her and aggression was something she had never associated with him. The male pushed against the multiple vines bunched up around his neck and chest. Using the moment to her advantage, Diku rushed the then-thought-to-be-rouge-attacker and swiped his front paws out from under him. She attempted to crack, dislocate, bruise or _anything_ the joints with all the force her powerful body could muster. If he couldn't put weight on a limb, then it put her at an incredible advantage. She instantly wanted to follow the attack with a hiss and spit to his face, but instinct pulled her back. The vines that held him in place could give way, possibly, and she didn't want to be two inches away when that happened.

With a toe curling roar he lunged for her, but the vines refused to give. Unfortunately, something else gave way instead, a branch that most of the vines were hocked over cracked off, allowing him to catapulted a meter more. His paws thrashed out as he surged, looking to repay her for the hit, but only managing to skirt across the barrel of her chest. More of the thicket was snapped and pulled down around him as he lunged again.

His roar was soaked in anger and frustration. Moonlight flooded through the holes he had ripped into the canopy, revealing that the thorns that had sunken and ripped into nearly every inch of him as he continued to lash out. Diku hissed at him to shut up while easing herself back.

"The more you move the worse it gets, calm down!" Her words seemed to have great effect, because he stilled instantly.

"Diku?"

Erghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhuuuuhh? For a split second she panicked, thinking she had attacked the King. He was always slinking around alone these days, hiding in dark places and all that. The moment passed, however, when she realised that the King was busy at the ceremony, and this lion didn't appear like him at all.

As the male stopped struggling and instead held still, she got to see him clearly. His eyes were glued to her, as if he was seeing his own dead mother rise from the grave. But slowly that look changed as the stunned seconds ticked away. His stare made her body stiffen. It was like she was the gnu and he was the crocodile, and right now she was currently ankle deep in his river. Now that they were both tense and still, the moonlight he had let in was able to absorb his features. What she saw made her think that maybe she _was_ a walking corpse and the look he was giving her was a justified one. Because she certainly was starting to feel like dead meat. The first coherent thought that occurred to her was _denial. _Flat out_ impossible, _this was not happening, couldn't be happening, shouldn't be happening.

Instead of her name being gasped, it was now growled.

"_Diku." _

It was a very dangerous growl, one that made her start to back up, and him strain at the thorns once more. The noise the forest made as he pulled it snapped her back to earth; it had been so quiet just a moment ago. So silent nothing in the forest had dared to breathe. The noise steadily grew as the shock waned off him, until he was building like a storm. He didn't roar, growl or so much as whisper. Sometimes he would huff after a particularly desperate struggle, but nothing more. His eyes remained fixed to her the entire time, staring right back, like he was trying to hold a telepathic conversation or perhaps search for answers in her eyes. Currently the way he was looking at her made it seem that he was pleading for an explanation, begging for answers, having a silent meltdown in front of her.

She had to go. This was scaring her. Branches above creaked and moaned as his struggles grew. Somehow he wasn't tiring at all, in fact it seemed like he was getting stronger. He had become numb to the thorns and to his body, adrenaline and fear grasping him by the base of his spine and yanking him around like a plaything. Already he had churned the ground underneath him into pieces, but still he dug his claws in and lunged again, twisting and angling, fighting like his life was on the line for each and every centimetre.

Then, a branch was snapped so savagely it sounded like an explosion. Horrid tearing filled the forest as he rushed towards her, the thorns which had been embedded so deep, now clawing long lines into the flesh. Quickly he had made half the distance between them, and her fear climaxed.

Plunging forward so she could meet him on her terms, she twisted and went low. Her shoulders dropped but her head was swung up in an attempt to bite his face off. She expected him to lift away and slam his heavy paws into her as he came back down, but he did not. She expected him to meet her attack, going for her throat as she went for his, but he did not do this either. There was no roar drowning hers out, no anger. The attack found no resistance. Her jaws wrapped firmly around his throat, the intense momentum of her attack taking the rest of her body forward, her chest thudding against his shoulder, sending him flying off balance. Claws rose up instinctively to dig into the flesh there, trying to secure her hold as he was forced backwards and wrestled onto the ground before he could get his feet under him. They both froze and stilled.

He had either been so confused and distracted by her, that he forgot how to fight, or so injured and exhausted from the vines that he couldn't. The skin she held stretched before her teeth, the massive force she had at her whim sitting tightly against his jugular. Those two possible reasons sounded plenty plausible, but she knew they were far from the truth.

She raised her tongue, to hold it against the throat she had at her mercy, and felt the shiver it enticed over his entire body. Closing her eyes, she focused on the blood thrumping under the skin, the sucking of his windpipe as he breathed soft, small breaths. He breathed like he was afraid of startling her into realising that he was a beast, and not just some funny shaped tree she was strangely biting into. His muscles crawled under the skin when he swallowed, travelling up and back as they contracted. A mane which before had seemed to billow now felt thin as it gave way to her slightest touch.

It was possible to clamp down and rip his throat out, it was what she had intended on when making this move, but, now that he had given the choice to her, laying lax beneath her, and she was faced with it... slowly, she loosened her hold and inched her face away. She was stuck down with a mixture of mortification and enlightenment. He leaned up, following her as she pulled away.

He took a deep breath and sighed as he buried his face into her shoulder. Warm breath tickled at her whiskers, mingling with her own as she leaned lightly to feel him against her cheek. It was like all the strings that had been holding him back were cut and he started to press against her. She wasn't being crushed by him, far from it, it was instead like he was drawing against her, trying to wrap her up in his arms. She hadn't realised how much of him had been hovering uncertainly out of touch. This was the last thing she wanted, the last position she wanted to be in. Not after what had happened, especially after what she had done to him, what she was _doing_ to him. It was like he was trying to absorb ever inch of her, trying to convince himself that she really was here, with him.

This could not be happening. She pulled out of the embrace so fast that she knocked her skull against his. Neither of them so much as blinked. Standing back to hiss, all her shock and panic was funnelled into her words.

"What are you doing here?!" She whispered it, as if afraid someone else would overhear. He looked floored by the fact that she could talk. Various emotions flashed across his face before he snapped back, voice as close to breaking as it was to yelling.

"What are _you _doing here?" When he was done sighing angrily through his nose, she turned to glare at him.

"You can't be here. You shouldn't be. You need to leave, now, and don't come back." She shook her head furiously, unable to believe what was happening.

"What? Diku, I-" She cut him off with a furious roar.

"No!" Of all the times, this had to happen now, like this? Typical of him to cock up her life in the easiest way possible_. _"And if that bloody brotherhood is with you then leave twice as fast! You do realise my _mother_ is the _Queen _here, right?" He listened to her in silence, grinding his jaw side to side before it popped open to retort. She cut him off again.

"Leave." Her simple word made him flinch. Taking her own advice, she spun away and ran. He didn't call out after her, but she knew he would attempt to follow her, the trees yet again shuddering and crashing as he strained against the last few vines that kept him. They wouldn't hold him for long, and she knew he would probably chase her into a volcano if she let him, so she galloped like a mad gazelle, almost outpacing the wind. It was fruitless to try and cover her trail, since her destination was obvious. What she needed to do was get there first, far ahead of him, so that the formidable presence of the pride was enough of a barrier to give him pause. Perhaps the blood loss would be too much, and he wasn't even racing after her. That thought made her feet falter, but the moment passed.

A trio of hyena barked at her when she passed their patrol. Obviously they weren't doing their job very well, she had been ambushed tonight!

"Hey! Where's the fire girl?" One gruff female asked her. Diku slowed down to a stop, casting a darting look over her shoulder as she took the moment to catch her breath. If he caught her now, at least she had three hyenas on her side.

But would that be enough? It's _him_ after all. Swallowing the grit from her mouth, Diku shook her head in what she hoped was a casual manner.

"No fire."

All three raised their eyebrows. "Well it looks like there's a fire," one grumbled to his friend. She started to move again, trotting sideways as she tried to keep an eye on Priderock, an eye on the hyena, and another scouring the direction she had come from.

"Just want to get home. Ceremony and all that. See ya." She left before they could ask her anything else, jumping only a little when a cloud blocked the moon and the land went dark. Behind her she heard the female grumble to herself.

"Well...alright."

Her paws struck a few more strides before she came to a decision. Priderock sat in the distance, the King, her mother, her children, her pride. A harsh decision was made, but one she felt no guilt over. She would _not _endanger her children.

"Oi, hyena!" They had been watching her leave anyways, so it's not like they spun around or anything, but she wanted to know they were listening. "I saw a rouge lion far back that way. So keep on your toes."

Their response was two shocked _what!_ and a low chuckle from the female.

"So there was a fire?"

Diku ignored her smirk before twisting and racing on home. She didn't anticipate how much it would hurt to do that, to cast him away as a rouge and seal his fate, but still there wasn't any regret. Once the rest of the pride was alerted, he would be hunted off to lands far, far away from her.

No regret, no guilt, but a burning stone in her gut, like the sadness was trying to light a fire in there.

The ground that ringed Priderock was packed and smooth from generations of herds and ceremonies. The pale dirt, which was dusty and pliant everywhere else, was so hard it was like running over rock. At the pace she was going, it shocked her bones to jar against, but she didn't slow. Priderock was still too far away. She could be attacked right here and they probably wouldn't notice. Getting closer, the details in the rock started to appear, and she could make out a few lions moving around up there. She rounded the base and leapt up the front of Priderock, charging along the main path. Halfway up she nearly collided with a lioness and cub.

"Hey, woah, what's the rush?" Diku gasped in deep breaths as she skidded to a stop and tried to formulate her words.

"Don't worry, honey, the ceremony has only just concluded. You're not _too_ late," her mother laughed lightly as she observed her trying to work a stitch out of her ribs. Suddenly, her eyes narrowed. "Is that blood? What _happened_. Diku..." The cub at her side, who had been acting rather disinterested before, now started to walk forward to sniff at her.

"Are you alright?" The cub asked. Diku nodded quickly, looking down at the girl before squaring her shoulders and lifting her head.

"It's nothing, there was some thorns, I think most of it is the other's blood." Mother's expression twitched a clear signal of her thoughts. _Other? _"I encountered a rouge male, south-west from here, about four miles. He seemed reluctant to attack a Pridelander, but he was still very protective of the prey he had. I've already alerted one of the patrols. I should go and let the King know." Her mother nodded sharply, the authority she held easy to see in the way she responded to the situation.

"Yes, do that. He should still be talking with some others up on the platform." Diku thanked her and passed by them.

"Awh. Sarabi, does this mean we're not going hunting anymore?" The bemused words of her mother followed.

"We're still going hunting, just a different sort of prey."

* * *

_Stranger Lions, somewhere Far and Secret:_

The night was at her darkest, hiding two lions flawlessly in the shadows.

"Don't let the herds see you, otherwise you could well be screwed. Every beast knows the pride's strict laws on rouges, so they would go crying to the King pretty quick. Even though there is a lot of lost trust issues with Scar..." One male stood at the entrance to the den, another lay sprawled inside, underneath the giant red stone slab, like a god come down to earth. Or perhaps more fittingly, a demon crawling up to the surface. Said immortal being had shifted his head to regard the smaller speaker, one ear twisting as he considered what he had been told.

"So we _can_ go hunting?" He was being difficult. The smaller lion looked up to the stars for strength.

"What did I just say?" The way he hissed made the other glare.

"Don't snap at me!" The larger lion got up and walked out from under the stone slab, forcing the other to take two small steps back.

"As your spy and informant, please just listen to me." His tail swished uneasily as the other drew himself to full height. The bigger male pouted.

"Awww, you're lucky I need you." Again, the smaller male found himself rolling his eyes all the way up to his ancestors.

"I'm going to pretend that's the only way your socially incompetent arse can say you see me as a friend." That got one dry _ha_ from the bigger.

"Incredibly lucky I need you," he scoffed while starting to move past the messenger.

"Okay, go it? So keep following my advice and don't you dare go thinking about starting any hunting parties." His face twisted, but the smaller could not see.

"But I _need _strong buffalo meat, I need a big hunt. Do you know how boring it is to sit here licking my coat thin? Me? Me! Hiding out in a hole like some sort of lowly prey animal." At the same time they both picked up the scent of blood and turned to inspect the third member of their group shuffling towards them with an antelope.

"Why can't you be more like Bukoba?" The smaller sighed, carrying on the conversation while the hunter was still out of ear shot.

"Because that guy is a rock born into the wrong body. He would be over the moon if I ordered him to find a sunny spot and stay there." The lion started to move towards the fresh meat while he talked, the other tagging behind him.

"What, so a rock is your most feared guard?" He found that funny.

"Hard to kill a rock." He found that hard to argue.

As they walked forward, Bukoba stopped suddenly and dropped his kill to the ground. The Alpha kept going for the kill without concern, wrapping his jaws around it and pulling it onto its back. The smaller lion paused, knowing in the hierarchy he was below Bukoba and had to wait for him to eat. He kept inching forward silently, curious about the kill and the lion – he hadn't really met Bukoba yet, and he was just standing there like a statue. It was hard to pick any sort of expression in the particularly dark night, which was probably why he didn't sense any danger until it was on top of him, going for his throat.

Almost as if he had crossed a clearly drawn line, Bukoba sprung to life and barrelled into his body. Scrambling to keep the maniac off him, he was forced onto his back. His eyes widened as paws slipped across a chest already slick and dirty with blood. The blood scent had seemed a bit too strong for the small antelope, now that he thought about it.

It was taking all his strength to fend off Bukoba's attempts for his head and neck. Dimly he was aware that the Alpha was trying to drag Bukoba off him, the big lion's efforts were the sole reason that he wasn't a shredded pile of cat meat by now. The side of his head had been cuffed with all the force of a zebra kick, contributing to both a splitting headache and a loss of hearing. Somewhere in there, Bukoba's roars started to filter through to his conscious.

"Why didn't you tell me about Diku?" It was like he was trapped under a mountain. A mountain that was trying to bully him into talking. Tell him about what? Who? Diku, that sounded familiar... with what felt like his last breath, he managed to choke.

"The other lioness?" He looked to the Alpha as if searching for clues, but that proved to be a useless effort. All he got was another slap, this time to his sensitive nose. It was a wonder Bukoba even heard his wheezy question over his own constant growls and quakes.

"Yes, the other Lakelander you piece of shit!" The battle of strength came to an end with Bukoba winning, a heavy paw slamming down on his throat and trying to snap through the skin and bone.

"I wasn't...aware...she...mattered," just as he was starting to see a whole new sky of stars, the pressure was gone.

"Oh, this other one is Diku? What an interesting development," the Alpha's innocent comment almost enraged Bukoba more. At least it wasn't directed just at him anymore.

"You knew too. Why wasn't I told?" Claws ripped into his shoulder, he felt like complaining, but wisely kept his mouth clamped shut.

"Please get off our spy."

"_You rat_."

Bukoba did get off him, but only so he could stalk over to the Alpha, looking desperately close to having a go at him as well. While coughing his lungs back into working order, he briefly fantasied about who would win if the two ever did, by some freak doomsday phenomenon, end up fighting. While nosily thrashing around for air, he missed the hushed words shooting between the two brothers.

"Alright, I guess we're going to do this," the Alpha rolled his shoulders, limbering up for what could well be the most carefully worded explanation of his career.

"Damn right you're going to, give me one good reason you pathetic inbred." His hot breath fluttered across the Alpha's face, racing due to all the trials of the night, and all the adrenaline they gave him.

"Now I know that's the anger talking, so I'm going to let that slide." His attempt at a cool attitude fizzed out as it hit a smoldering wall of burning anger. As much as he seemed collected on the outside, the Alpha knew that how this conversation went down could make or break the loyalty of his friend. He had been practicing and revising this speech since the day he found out Diku was in the pride. What he needed was to make sure it came out less as his own selfish want, and more like he was carrying in the only way he knew how. Plus there was a huge backlog of opinions he had on Diku which it would be nice to get off his chest.

"That lioness was nothing but grief for me. You would leave the brotherhood for days just to track her down and have a disgustingly awkward chat with her. You should have seen yourself when we were young, always rolling over for her." He shook his head in disbelief of his own memories. "What boggled my mind was that you _killed_ a few guys for trying it on with her, but couldn't find the nerve to claim her for yourself. Pathetic. You were my greatest warrior until she went and ran away with your balls. We were facing tough times, I needed you back, the real you. So I got rid of her." Oh no, there's the reaction, quick, pacify, pacify! "Don't give me that look, I could have simply killed her. You know how I take care of problems, and she was becoming a very big problem." It took all of his Alpha prowess to get those two sentences out before being attacked, but he was feared for good reason, and that reason was becoming highly useful at the present moment. "Still I had respect for you, no matter how much it dwindled when you were acting all love-sick, so I honoured you that much by letting her live. She's far safer now then she ever was." It was a lot to dump on a lion who had been a grief stricken wreck for the past year. It was a lot to dump on anyone who believed their thousand year crush slash best friend to have died in a bush fire.

"Listen, I'm telling you the truth – the complete truth - because I've been thinking. Now hear me out on this, alright. If this plan goes through, which it has a very good chance to, then I will give her to you, and she will be yours to do as you wish. You can stroll along the river bank, give her flowers and work up the nerve to tell her how you feel under a setting sun. You can give her a den and protect her like you used to fantasies about. Sometimes it's a curse knowing you as well as I do. She'll be protected in the new order, she'll be safe."

A long moment of angry thoughts passed, his emotions racing clearly across his face as he debated between outrage at what his brother had done, and calm at the idea of having Diku, safe, with him, alive. She was back from the dead, and that was enough of a prize to comfort the beast. After all this time, she was alive, and now this was being piled on top of him. No more meeting in secret, no more hiding from her pride, no more weeks apart, no more worrying over her safety as the rebellions raged.

He could have easily killed her, but he didn't. He was promising protection for her, which wasn't an offer that got thrown around a lot. Just as it seemed a conclusion was drawing on the lion's face, Kuu groaned and muttered. He had to fight the urge to slash at the boy, not wanting his carefully crafted words to be uprooted by anything the idiot said. However, his restraint was rewarded.

"Ah. Guess this isn't a good time to tell you that she's had some cubs while here."

He smirked. This was the finishing blow. "And I'll even throw in that guy, once we learn who he is, and let you kill him however you want. Free of charge."

"_Deal."_


	10. Disaster's In The Air

Disaster's In The Air

_The Cub, in the Epicenter:_

Simba knew he was out of his mind. This storm seemed to be curled around _him_. Heavy droplets stung his back, the harsh panting of his own body was lost beneath the rolling thunder, and the lighting fractured into hundreds of tiny needles when it came down, like a blind beast feeling around, it was combing the lands for him. Eyes bore into him from the darkness, the wind was like the breath of a killer closing in.

Simba ran faster.

Half way back to Pumbaa and Timon, his paws started to slap against water. The earth had reached her point, too waterlogged to take anymore. The water table had finally arrived at the surface. There were warnings about this, how if the rains were violent and fast, the Lowlands would quickly come to show why it was called such.

Slaps became splashes, and around the watercourses and swamps, each step was a slosh. They were warned by the elders that the quiet nights were at their end, and the floods were on their way. But the warm showers continued and the gentle wind never grew suspicious.

Now it was all coming at once. The rivers surged and the banks groaned, but the fact was, the rivers were already overflowing from those good gentle rains. Simba stopped to listen as a river, somewhere in the dark before him, started to rush and roar like a rapid. He had crossed it an hour ago, and it had been quiet, like a tired calf napping in the shade.

There was a wave, rain that had fallen many miles upstream finally hitting, and the water splashed around him, clambering up to tickle his belly. Lighting hit close by, deafening all noise and illuminating the river in half-second brilliance. Simba took a step forward, then stopped as he felt the river push back, resisting him. Pupils, expanded to their peak, darted around the screaming storm. His chest started to fell cold as it surged and surged, clawing up him and leaning into him.

Careful to keep his balance against the river, Simba tried to pull himself out of the flood.

What of the party by the lake? Many of the rivers lead into it, and would be filling it brutally fast. Where would they hurry once it started to lap against them? The slopes of the jungle were the only true risen land, but they were far, and the herds were huge. It would become crowded, there would we a mad rush... a stampede. Simba carefully backed out away from the river, each step carefully weighed. A few screams drifted over from the other side, but they were shushed by the storm.

He was near the edge, where the water only came to his knees, when someone came racing along. It happened too quick for Simba to pick what species they were. A few bodies whizzed past him, two leapt and cleared him in the last moment, one did not. His breath was knocked from him as he was hit and spun, legs tangled over him and hooves dug in. The animal thrashed in panic and battered him over the head by mistake, almost regaining its balance in time for another herd mate to slam into them and start the thrashing over again. Simba squirmed his head above water, gasping large breaths that he often had to choke on as their thrashing made wild waves. Yanking his limbs away, Simba used all his strength to shove them harshly away. Shrill screams started when they felt his cold pads and sharp claws against their sides, realising that the small body they were tumbling over was not a hoofed heard mate.

Their screams sent the others splitting around the area, leaping five meters clear in confused fear. They quickly found their feet and ran, leaving him to shakily get to his paws, water running off him and rain falling with a splat on a soaked and blackened coat. He could feel slimy mud in his armpits as he moved away, letting him know that the rest of him was most likely covered after being smashed and squashed.

His dismal eyesight led him to a tree, but he could not see how tall it was or where its branches began. With the water rising more and more, often successfully tugging him off balance, Simba gripped the rough trunk in his paws and jumped up without another thought. Five jumps later his muscles strained to continue. Shaking arms and shoulders tried to hold him to the trunk and not go tumbling backwards.

If felt like the wind condensed and funnelled through the valley then, making the tree splinter and lean as the weather leaned against it. Simba squinted against the rain, alternating between eyes that still stung from the mud wash. Just as his limps were going faint and his claws losing hold, lighting crackled across the horizon, lighting up the fork of the tree, five inches above where his claws clung with desperation. Easing up slowly and with great effort, Simba managed to hook himself over like a clump of limp waterweed.

Sometimes he shifted to ease the weight off his ribs, often he inched a little more, searching for a more comfortable position. For half the night he stayed up there, cold and shivering, watching the lighting and listening to the storm. Sometimes he would hear splashing around below, somebeast wheezing and mewing. He should have stayed up there for a long time, days if needed, for the water to calm and the storm to lift. He would have, if not for a terrible event that happened during the deep night.

The lighting grew rapid, a strike every other second, capturing the land in rapid stills. This unfortunately coincided with the beings of the rumbles, giving Simba a teasing show as a slice of the jungle gave way and sank into the Lowlands. The earth shiver just like her animals now, the trees rattled, old branches falling as they shook like dogs after a swim. The flood swirled and flipped, and thunder, for the first time, was out roared.

The mountain was falling apart. Another of her cliffs sank as the slopes were crushed in the earth slide, a trickle effect happening across her gut as rock slipped away in the rain.

It was only a small part, like one of her toes had been lost, but it was a terrifyingly huge toe which crumbled and rolled like an eagle from the clouds into the grass. Lighting struck at the landslide, casting the nightmare in light again, and Simba could see how huge rocks were falling, flipping down the mountainside like toys, metal from deep underground was thrown up and the lighting licked at it like a thirsty beast, twice, thrice, almost racing each other to slash out at the crumbling mountain. It may have been a trick caused by his horror or something else, but the plasma white started to turn purple and red, striking at the mountainside like it was trying to claw out the heart. Boulders big enough that boulder was not a suitable word, were pushed down and turned around, flipping over before being covered in mud and earth. It was like the bones of the mountain were being ripped out and thrown. His hungry ancestors coming down from the stars, slashing at his home in rage, killing her and pulling out the entrails.

That was the last he saw, because the lighting never struck again, but the rumbling continued, the tree trembling along with him as the night was filled with the sound of old bones grinding.

The wind died, the lighting went, the clouds calmed and only the sound of violent sheets of rain remained. Warmth returned to his body and the patter of rain against the tree's canopy filled his deafened ears.

Trembling, Simba went to jump down in shock. His body was too weak to cling so he fell, tumbling over and over until he slammed into the water, falling still as he went and went, until landing against the grass with a soft touch.

The water was deep. He spun and kicked against the ground, surging up and breaking the surface with the tail end of a startled cry. He was already moving, the current snatching him, pulling him down along the river's course. The tops of bushes snatched at his kicking feet as he went by.

It was quiet enough to hear the river now, the splashes as it went over a bank or dragged around a tree trunk. Simba threw his strength into his kicks, managing to skim by a tree, but failing to get a hold of its smooth bank, wet and slippery in the water. Simba knew that water ran to lower land, and knew he was only being taken into deeper and deeper floodwater. He thrashed and thrashed, praying for the feel of ground under his outstretched paws. There had to be a rise, a slope, a bank, _something. _But if anything like that existed, than the floodwater twirled and split around it, carrying him along like a leaf in the wind.

It a quiet enough to hear bellows a tiny distance away, a herd scrambling as they tried to keep together through the darkness. Simba shouted out, but they did not hear him over their own noise. The clouds parted by a fraction, enough for Simba's eyes to capture the weak moonlight and scrambled for a tree he could see rising from the water. He missed it by a mile, the current pushing him quickly by it.

After that effort, he started to tire. Water started to dunk him under, and when he did have time to breath, it splashed up and got in his lungs, making him cough and lose the breath he had struggled for. His legs stung and his core was so exhausted he felt sick. Underneath the surface, it was quiet and it all seemed so calm.

Simba was sure that this was the point at which he was meant to die, but he did not. It had been a long time since his last proper breath, but he still managed to go on. Muscles hurt, but they did not go faint and fail him. As he felt his own energy slipping, warmth crept in and kept him going. A different heat filled his body. Simba stopped franticly struggling, and with careful bunching of his strength, manage to keep himself above the surface once more. It was as if he had tapped into a last resource, the same emergency reserve that had fuelled him across the sands, that kept him going for nights on end. He paddled with long strokes, creeping across the current towards the calmer fringes until, finally, as if he had been electrocuted, his paws fluttered against ground.

Then the current swept him over the ground, and carried him onwards.

But he was close! It was getting shallower, he could see a bank of land, and the trees were thick here, easy for him to swim into and get caught between. Their thin upper branches offered him a moment to catch his breath before his weight snapped them off and the force of the water carried him on.

The longer it went on, the weaker he got, but it was never like he truly came close to drowning. At one point a small antelope's body had been caught around a tree, it's body lukewarm as he pressed against it. Concentrating on getting air into his lungs rather than the creature's limp body, he was able to avoid the panic from settling in once more. If he was going to get out of this, he needed to be calm. Focused, determined, _calm_.

Eventually his paws made contact and managed to stay. He dug and kicked, leaping through the water as it went from neck to chest to knees... soon it was just his paws and the tip of his tail that the water dragged on. He was unbelievably heavy, and as soon as the water was shallow enough, he fell into the mud and wheezed.

The rain was calm and the water level no longer grew. He lay for a long time, the emergency reservoir retreating quickly from his body once it was no longer needed, leaving his body as weak as it had ever been.

Simba lay there for a long time, enjoying his ability to breath, and marvelling at the fact that he couldn't feel most of his body. It if wasn't on fire, than it was numb and wasted. It was like running up the last sand dune all over again, and seeing the twinkle of green far off in the hazy day.

* * *

_A Great-Grandmother Elephant, somewhere Close By:_

Tonight was a cruel irony. It was meant to be a celebration of the life-giving rains. There should have been parties and ceremonies, song and dance, friends should have been made and love found. Instead, there was this.

She crossed from bank to bank, the water rising to touch her hanging belly, but never rising anymore. It was shocking how deep it had gotten, and so quickly. If it was this high on her, than it could easily swallow most. She was thankful that the herd had left for the Outerlands that afternoon, her small grandson would have been in great danger and her daughters in panic. The land out there was higher, safe for them, but for those in the Lowlands that high land was the very reason for this disaster. It trapped them in a bowl.

Masikio crossed diligently in her footsteps, the danger of the storm not lost to her, even when her grandmother had tried her best to seem calm about it all. Arusha was blessed with permanent water because of its rains, but paid the price every few years with the floods.

"Masikio," she called to her grandchild as they reach the other bank and rose from the water. "My eyes are old, and this night is darker than most. Could you lead the rest of the way?"

Her grandchild paused, peered from her grandmother to the night, then nodded her head firmly.

"It is lighter than it was before, some things are clearer now." With that said, Masikio walked past her before pausing. Her ears flapped in confusion, for just a minute, before she picked a direction and followed it. Masikio stuck to the thin bank, searching for a narrow crossing. In a normal river, narrow crossing tended to be deeper, but she let Masikio continue, knowing that with the flood water, the normal rules were useless.

Even the hippos had ran from the water, a stack of them had clambered onto the bank, flattening the grass that covered the thin island. A few grunted and glared as they approached, but upon seeing the size of her, wisely let them go. Further up Masikio stepped into the water, each footstep careful and tested before the next. It was just as she had been doing all night, ever since the water rose, and she was glad to see Masikio had learnt.

Above, in the clouds, a million gnu ran, their spirits twirling and twisting around. Gnu were not common here, they lay off the course of the Great Migration. The storm would have built in a faraway land, then flown through the sky for here. Why? Why did the migration come here, they were the biggest force on earth, yet they had come to corral around Arusha? Sometimes a white one would be charging amongst them, leading a new wave made up of a fresh million. His form pure white, glowing as he was whisked along in the wind. Or perhaps, the wind was whisked along by him. Static built in the sky as their coats brushed and their hooves struck the clouds, but the white's held the lightning back, pulling the current into the clouds and keeping the storm calm.

She raised her heavy head, craning up to stare with wonder at the turmoil above. It was too chaotic to pick out much than a flash of colour, but she could _feel_ it.

Close by, along the flood water's edge, something popped and seeped like lava underwater. The colour from the spirits shone over her wrinkles, and the growing red from the water's edge started to play shadows across her face.

"Masikio..." her granddaughter pulled short at the low grumble. She turned to look back with worry. The child could not see anything, but she was feeling it, however slight. It was visible in the way her eyes fearfully darted over the river, her instincts shrieking at the invisible crowd that swarmed the lands tonight.

Stepping off without a word, she headed for where the water grumbled and grew. Something flashed in the dark, a beam of light tracing the outline of long spiral horns. Her flat feet squashed the soggy earth beneath her, making the ground buckle as she drew to the small form that lay on the shore.

Her granddaughter whispered the name, shock making her gasp. So it was him, the little lion friend. The mysterious cub. Masikio froze and stayed, but she on the other hand, crept closer. Her eyes watched the way the nature around him shuddered.

The beast beside his body looked up, golden eyes flashing in among a black body, his gaze making her frown. Spirits did not look like that. He was a normal sized beast, unusual because spirits were always gigantic. His dark body was made out of a ghostly cloud. There was no ethereal glow, as souls did, and he was not an aspect of nature, as the legends tended to be, their power unable to be channelled into a wispy form. He was transparent, and a strange thread of energy was strung from him to the cub. A ghost, wavering in and out of vision, his image dissolving where the rain fell through him. He dimmed as she watched on, until he pulled away, the thread dissolving instantly. With one last look at the cub by his hooves and a nod to the river, the ghost was blow away in a wind, along with every other spirit. From the water, a shape with red eyes rose, her size shrinking as she drew to shore. It was like a wave, coming in, before easing and lying against the bank. Her arms went either side of the cub, whose unconscious body still trailed in the water. Features became clear as the water calmed, lazily gathering like a giant sized droplet on a giant sized petal.

The storm was gone. Not from the land, just from this place, for now. Masikio shuffled warily behind her, but held still and silent. The natural form of this more powerful spirit would be visible to her, but the child did not startle. She felt pride at how her grandchild held herself, no matter how bizarre tonight was becoming. The spirit's formation had blown the horde away, the wind had pushed them back and thrown them far, calm weather settling as she herself settled on the shore.

The spirit looked upon the cub in her arms. The red of her eyes washed along her river form, darkening the further it went until becoming a deep purple that blended into the floods. Then, she inched her head up, to look upon her.

"Elephant." To see a lion spirit was a rare thing. And this one... to make her form from the water... to appear in a gust that pushed even the migration back... she tried to keep the stutter from her voice as she swallowed and replied.

"Your Majesty." It was lucky that the storm had calmed around them, because her whisper would not have been heard otherwise. The Queen's eyes closed as the name was said, perhaps relishing the sound of it after so long. There were not many beasts left who were old enough to recognise her.

"I'm in need of your help, Old One." She turned back down to gaze upon her flesh and blood. The matriarch's ears twitched in disbelief.

"Me? Help you?" After a moment of confused silence, her tongue twisted as she rushed to continue. "I – Ah - would be honoured! I - anything you need, Your Majesty." The lioness's bottomless eyes flashed dangerously at the title, now twice said in such a short time.

"Season change, beasts change, words change, loyalties change. Only the elephant remains. The sands could blow in, and the mountains could crumble, and your lot would still remain the same as you were before. What is it like, being so old? You must have been around when my great-great grandmother was born, and now you were here with my grandcub at your feet."

"It was a great privilege to grow so old. You honour me too much with that question, it makes me feel the debt even more."

Her glowing form fluttered in the dark as the river rushed and surged. The storm was returning.

"Yes, I was wondering if you would point that out. I wonder just how truthful that legend is, the Kings of Old gifting your kind with fifty years at the cost of their own fifty. You and the tortoise have grown heavy with time, perhaps the blessing my forefathers intended is in truth a burden."

"If it has become that, than it is one I shoulder with pride."

Uru's head cocked to and fro, weighing the beast in front of her.

"They told me you were a smart one."

"Just an old one."

Uru laughed, her voice hoarse and deep.

"My sons, you think they would grow wise with age, but it has done nothing but weary them. And my grandcubs...one is too young to know, this one is too sad to realise. A curse has settled upon my pride, it seems."

"You sound terribly worried for an all powerful being, Your Majesty." Uru smirked at her words, her watery lips peeling back to reveal large fangs that looked far more real than the rest of her.

"Spirits are just smoke on the wind." The Queen dimmed at her own admission, memories churning in her mind. She couldn't help but blink at the lioness in bewilderment.

"Ah, that explains why tonight has been so calm."

Uru's head shot up, another smirk, this one much more feral grew. It seemed to be her favourite expression.

"I suppose smoke can burn the eyes a little, but what more than that?"

"Suffocate them? In the fires, smoke kills more than flame." Uru barked with laughter at the suggestion.

"Stop being so literal! How am I meant to seemed mysterious and all knowing while you're standing over there poking holes in my metaphors?"

"Ah, sorry."

"_Ah, sorry_ she says. Pfft." Uru's eyes drifted off to another in their midst, her ears rotating back as she relaxed. It was impossible to pick what the new presence was, since it was another transparent ghostly spirit, but this one looked to be weak and out of control. The cloud shifted and fell constantly as it tried to hold form.

"Is that a ghost?" She asked the Queen.

"Ghost? No, just a dreamwalker. This one has only just begun to discover it's powers, so it is embarrassingly weak. Their different because their souls still remains in bodies. They are very much alive."

"Oh." She looked on with curiosity as the shifting walker floated closer to Uru and Simba. "Who is that?"

"I do not know, probably some spirit-talker. I only know of three, the gnu, kudu and ape, and all their images are clear when they walk. Maybe it is this little one's familiar, a young animal trying to grasp their powers." A plume of smoke drifted closer to Uru's river form, making the old queen size the cloud up. "They seemed to have taken a liking to me, following me all over the place since they first popped up." Uru grumbled and a vein pulsed in her forehead. Simba groaned between her paws. At the sound the dreamwalker puffed away, their hold on their power lost when startled. "He is waking, I must go. When he is conscious, our spirits clash, and my power goes unstable." Her form started to lose its edges and peel back, inch by inch.

The Queen jumped, remembering her original reason for materialising. "What I ask of you is nothing too specific, no, just look after him. I know this is a lot to ask of one with such finite time left, but you're the most trustworthy."

"It is precisely because I have such little time left that I accept with pleasure." She drew even closer and bent to scoop Simba up from the bank. Wrapping her trunk around his chest tenderly, she gazed down as he started to shift and regain consciousness.

"Farewell," Uru's voice gurgled as she sunk into the river, her red glow sinking to the bottom and fading away.

"A finite time? Grandmother, the herd knows you have only years left, but, I thought, at least a year? What is going on!" Of course Masikio would choose to focus on that particular bit of information.

"Well, maybe it was more like months. But I have a feeling these last few months are going to be the longest of my life. I'm a retainer to a king now, not just a common kind either"

"King? That river monster you called Queen Uru, and she called Simba her grandcub, but, that whole conversation confused me grandmother." Her eyes fluttered between glaring at her grandmother and gazing at Simba's hanging body with concern.

"You'll hurt his ribs like that. Lay him across my back. He is used to riding up there." Her face twitched into a slight scowl, holding Simba closer to her body unconsciously.

"He might fall." Her words were definite, and she started to walk away with care as the storm returned and began to patter against her back once more. Masikio grumbled from beside her.

"He is already struggling against your hold. What if he cannot easily breathe like that?"

After three seconds of careful consideration, she laid Simba between Masikio shoulders as tender as she would with a butterfly.

"Alright_, retainer_, where do you want to take this _king?" _She nodded along to her own thoughts, ignoring the way Masikio was eyeballing her. The river had turned into a lioness, yet her granddaughter thought _her_ the strangest thing tonight?

"Our original destination will do. It would be wise to leave for higher lands as quickly as possible." Masikio nodded curtly and stepped to lead the way. Ah, that's right, she had forgotten that Masikio had been given the lead right before the incident. With her thoughts on the original destination, she remembered the reason why they were here. "Masikio." The young elephant stopped and turned to look back at her. "Consider yourself an adult now. I pass you." The look on her face could have rolled a boulder.

"What! But my ceremony!"

"Think of that back there as an ultra-mega ceremony." Most animals would consider that a life-changing encounter. Masikio seemed more annoyed than anything, but she seemed to accept it, silence returning as them began to walk once more.

Someone coughed. It was very tiny. It wasn't hard to guess who.

"Masikio, I want... to go, _stop_, wait... go to that landslide." She nearly had a heart attack at the King's words. Not even five minutes into being a retainer, and she was faced with this?

"That area will be extremely unstable right now, Your Majesty." Her words were frosty, trying to reprime him from that foolish idea, but they were just met with a far colder response.

"Don't call me that." He had gathered his breath back, and was now starting to hold his head up as he squirmed for a better position on Masikio's flexing back.

"Of course, Young Simba."

Young Simba turned to scowl at her, his red eyes flashing through the night. Luckily Masikio spoke up before his suspicious look turned into suspicious words.

"Hey, Simbuddy? How come you were all flaked out? I thought you were a great swimmer?"

"That wasn't ordinary water, you idiot."

Masikio's whole frame shook as she laughed.

"You can say that again!"

"You idiot..."

"Huh? Waa, not that!"

Maybe her granddaughter was not wise. Maybe she was just _dense._

She thought that she had won the argument. Young Simba had dropped it after Masikio distracted him, so she considered that he had simply thought better after her warning. Due to the dark night and her failing eyes, it was not until much later, when Masikio was leading her up a crumbling slope, that she realised.

What was she thinking? Of _course _he wouldn't just _drop _it, of _course_ Masikio was going to listen to the _king_, her friend, over her annoying grandmother who seems to have now finally lost it. How did she not notice the direction change sooner? Masikio must have kept it subtle, using the confused on the changed land to her advantage.

Simba leapt from Masikio's back, stumbling a bit on the fall, before gathering himself and racing up the debris, his tail swirling rapidly to keep his balance when the mud slipped from his weight.

"Hello?" Simba called out. His voice echoed along the quiet, freshly toiled land. "Timoooooon? Pumbaaaaaa?" Masikio stepped over a tree trunk and crawled up beside him. The two of them drew further and further away. The unstable ground was a nightmare for someone of her weight to navigate. Their voices carried easily through the storm, so she knew they were not too far ahead.

"Were your parents here?" Something snapped loudly as Masikio stepped on it.

"I know they were close by... there was a whole tonne of animals in this area, for that festival, remember?"

"No. But I remember that this landslide was massive, we've got a lot of ground to cover...well, climb." The wind picked up as the spirit herd charged closer. They swarmed over the destroyed area, scraping at the earth with their hooves.

The big gnu charged up the slope, flying back into the sky, the little antelope weaved between boulders and earth clumps, the light touch of their feet liquefying the mud. They were bringing the rain down with them, their forms splashes of water. Each droplet that fell, a spirit was guiding its path. No doubt Uru had infused the herds with her power. Buffalo thundered by, lowering their heads and smashing into the earth, passing through and disappearing into the slippery ground. It was as if they were carving something, working in harmony to complete a design. Monkeys and warthog's dug into the ground, hippo stamped the mud down and zebra ripped it up. At no point in time was she able to make out any one beast, they all blended together, plasma shared across their hides, their essence fleeting and power weak if it were not being amplified by Uru's storm. There was only so much she could take, and she had been weakened after the conversation with Uru, the presence of the spiritual power knocked her off her feet, her limp body slipping a few meters down before coming to rest against the rocks. The two young ones continued, lost in the intensifying storm.

* * *

_A Worried Cub, pacing the Pridelands:_

Something was definitely wrong. The pride had dealt with rouges before, there was one around the fringes every season or so. Usually it was all quiet calm and professional. This was very different. The other cubs were aware of the tense atmosphere, but they didn't fully grasp it. After all, it wasn't _their_ mother who was busy acting like the devil himself had a score to settle with her. Urgently.

Then the rumours had begun. The males had cornered some sort of lion, there had been some sort of fight. He had that look about it, the look of Sarabi and Diku, the look of Ulan and Benji, and even little Simba once had a touch of that look to him.

Lakelander.

As soon as he heard that, nothing could hold him back.

"Benji." His sister hurriedly tried to pretend she hadn't been jolted out of sleep. Who could possibly drift off at a time like this? "Benji, I was talking to you." The two boys beside him sniggered. They had told him not to bring Benji along, after all, she was a yucky _girl_. But he thought that this concerned her to, with mother's sleepless state and all. He thought she would at least have some interest.

"Yeah. And I was taking a nap. We don't all get what we want."

Maiming sibling frowned upon. Maiming. Sibling. Frowned. Upon

The sound of Enma's tail thrashing against the ground brought him out of the mediative state.

"You can leave, you know?" Said lion snapped. "Why did _you_ have to come? Sade would have been way better. Even the she-devil would have been better." Ulan saw the way his sister's eyes flashed, and braced himself for all out war. As sure as the sun would rise, his sister and Enma would find some way to have a fight.

If it had been a few weeks ago. He would have laughed at the idea. But in that short time, a time which felt like eternity, it had become a constant fixture. Wake up. Bathe. Sun on the rocks. Enma happens to stroll by (considering that they, you know, lived together, poor Enma never stood a chance) Benji sees him, starts insulting him, he naturally fights back, and just like that his day is ruined.

He remembers the first fight. He had just stood there and gawked at how his sister tensed and snarled while calling him every name under the sun. Tensed. Benji. His sister had never been fired up, not in her whole entire life. Benji was too lazy to bother, and the notion she would actually expend the effort it took to hate someone was ludicrous. So this was all quite mindboggling. Enma had never treated Benji any different to how he treated all the other cubs. So he was at a lost to what the guy had done to deserve this. As long as they stayed out of his business and got out of his way, there was no need for trouble. Being a fair bit older than them, it had definitely given Enma the opinion that he was too good to bother with the 'babies'. Unless your name was Nala, then you could look forward to a few glares and sly insults. He had picked on her a whole lot less after little Simba's death, so maybe he did have a conscious buried in there somewhere?

Thankfully the impending death match was cut short by the arrival of Adesola and Adejola.

"Sola, Jola, glad you could make it!" Ulan shouted purposefully, his words drowning out the highly inappropriate word Benji had sniped.

"Shh! A bit quieter would you? We're still pretty close to the rock." The two brothers jogged forward, one looking worriedly behind him while the other's eyes scanned side to side. They were identical in size to one another, even their blue eyes looked the same. At night time it was hard to tell them apart. However, on a bright day like this, there was one _glaring_ difference. Jola's coat was the same pale fawn of his late father's family, a colour which he shared with his two troublesome cousins Nala and Berta. The markings that patterned his cheeks and neck were nearly white in colour; they would have been striking if they weren't so faint.

Sola's fur on the other hand was darker, like a muddy shade of Mufasa's golden. Sometimes the sun would catch at the right angle and the gold would beam, but mostly he could be described as chestnut. His stripes were dark orange and slightly different to his brothers, running over his shoulders and chest rather than head and neck. He got the bizarre colour from his mother, who had come from an ally pride, a small family to the South. They were distantly related to the Pridelanders, and over time their golden coats had deepened and rusted.

"Man, sneaking out is way easier than it used to be." Sola said, the white fur that framed his eyes glinting under the moon. As they reached the gathering, a dark chuckle filled the air. Ulan scanned their surroundings, his eyes searching through the grass and rocks.

"Adult?" someone whispered. The chuckles grew even more. What adult would chuckle that darkly in a situation like this_. King Scar? _No. "The rouge?" Someone drew in a sharp breath.

"He wouldn't dare this close to the rock... would he?" Kalifa's quiet ponderings were broken when the spy spoke.

"Look at you all quaking like ducklings. And you really think you can stand up to the rouge, acting like this?" Every recognised the voice at the same time, and rolled their eyes as one when a young lionesses jumped out of the long grass.

"Fools!" She slammed to a halt before them, a self satisfied smirk on her face. Half looked down at their paws and the others glared. Benji did neither, instead she was busy struggling to keep her eyes open. This time of day was usually her nap time.

"How did you find us?" Nala smiled widely at the annoyed tone in the question.

"I have my ways..." she whispered mysteriously. As she said this, the grass rustled and another lioness strolled out. This one's stripes were far more striking than either of her brothers, her grey stripes and spots swirled in intricate patterns from her forehead down to her elbows. The dark stripes stood out far better against the dirty gold than Sola's orange ones did. There were even a few stray ones on her hind legs. The cub smiled sweetly at them all, completely undeterred.

"Scheming lionesses." Someone muttered darkly. Judging from how much pure despise when into those words, it could only be poor Enma.

"Sade," one of her brother's whinned, clearly realising that maybe they should stop telling their sister all their little secrets. She obviously cared little for the covert brotherhood that the boys had going.

"Sorry boys, the probability of you dying without us here was at, like, ninety percent." Five annoyed boys groaned, Sade continued to smile sweetly, Nala laughed maliciously and Benji nodded in understanding like a wise old man. Hmm, maybe the girls had their own sisterhood going on. He knew Benji was hiding something from him of late, but was she good enough to hide something like this. _Allegiance to the enemy?_

"Alright, get in threes than follow me. Move out." Nala barked before picking the direction and, following her own words, moving out. Sade followed her closely and Kalifa moved to pair up with Sola and Jola, who had been sitting right beside him. Ulan looked around and realised that just left him, Benji and Enma. Before he could drop to the ground and start begging for mercy, Enma shot to his feet and roared.

"Oh no you don't! You get to the back she-devil. This was Ulan's idea so he gets to lead." Ulan wasn't sure if he was relieved or not.

"Hmpft. You know, Enma, in a warrior party the leader goes to the back." Usually pointing out the fact that she got a legendary warrior for a mentor and he didn't was enough to make Enma lose any semblance of intelligence. However, the cub must of gotten used to that trick by now, because he didn't even flinch.

"Really? No wonder you're so used to being up the front. Unfortunately for you, in this party the weirdo's go to the back. So get moving." The two were almost nose to nose. Enma was one of the oldest cubs, and Nala was one of the youngest, but when they were staring each other down like this, they both looked equally as terrifying.

"Ha. I'm not in the business of taking orders from the likes of you. How about we let the leader decide. Ulan?" Nala's cruel eyes settled on him, chilling him to the bone. He was certain that her dark laughter echoed around him, but her lips hadn't moved since speaking his name so deceptively sweetly. Was this what they called 'life flashing before your eyes'? His last words to his mother had been, '_what?! No food?!_' Just as he was starting to shiver, Benji stepped up beside him.

"I think we should all just shut up and get going. We have a slim chance of actually cornering this guy and that chance gets slimmer for every minute we waste squabbling. Berta can only cover for us for so long until the adults notice our abstance."

So she _was_ in one some sort of sisterhood pact. They had planned this out way beforehand.

"Huh?" Even though it should have sounded like he was stumped, or perhaps surprised, Enma managed to sound sinster; making the incoherent question become unnerving. "And who in the hell asked you?" He growled slowly, like he was explaining to a child. Or possibly more accurately, like he was being careful not to implode. Benji's eyes hardened and glared back into his. Unaware of it, her head twitched a degree to the side.

"What did you just say to me, flea bag?"

Flea bag. That was new. Usually it was 'scum beneath my feet' or 'bone chunder' or 'pitiful wart', sometimes 'hog's smelly arse' if it got real fired up. Just as the two were unsheathing their claws, Ulan jumped between them and bravely addressed the crowd.

"Kalifa's going to be in charge while I stay back and have a chat with my sister. Everyone, please start heading to the last place the rouge was sighted. Thankyou." Not giving his sister a chance to dart around him and slice Enma to ribbons, he dragged her away with all the force he could muster.

"That's it, you're going to explain what's going on between you to, and you're going to do it _now._ Calmly and coherently." Surprisingly, he didn't get an eye gorged out. As the cubs trotted away and disappeared, she looked progressively more and more upset.

"Remember when I was called to grandmother's cave, and I was away for half the day with her?" He nodded dumbly, remembering the day she was referring to, but not understanding how this connected to Enma. "She told me that... that they were going to betroth me. Do you know what that means?" He didn't have enough time to respond that, yes, he did, since more than half of the cubs were betrothed already. It was right around this point that the calm and coherent factors were thrown out the window. He was pretty sure Benji's eyes were beginning to glow red, and the air around them had dropped in temperature.

"She says because I'm her granddaughter I have 'great political implications'. Whatever _that_ means. She said that I am a representative of the Lakelands, but I've never been there in my life! We weren't even born there! But grandmother said that didn't matter. Then she starts talking about Enma. _Enma_. She said that his granddad, that crazy old Magnar dude, was, like, cousin to Queen Uru or something. She said if there were no heirs, it would be Enma or Kalifa the kingship was pass on to. Can you believe that!? I'm sorry I don't think you look disgusted enough. There is a possibility, a very real possibility, that _Enma _could become _King. _Are you hearing this!" He was hearing this, but, he wasn't sure if he believed it.

"Wouldn't Kalifa become king? He's much smarter," Ulan said, at a loss for words and also too freaked out to cut into his sister's rant more than need be.

"That's what I said! But she told me that when they talked to Kalifa about being named heir, he flat out refused. You see, he's _smart_. He knows being the King is, like, servitude to the realm. He ain't falling for that." There was a stunned moment of silence, both of them searching each other's eyes for answers.

"So... Enma could be King?"

"That's not the problem here!" He desperately tried to back pedal through the conversation.

"It isn't? Because that sounds like a massive problem to me."

"Wake up! How did this conversation start? I've been _betrothed. _I'm of political importance; I represent the Lakelands so I can't be betrothed to some ally pride like most are, I need to be paired with a Pridelander. I need to be mated to someone who is also of political importance, someone who could be in quick need of a few heirs if things ever come to."

Sister – betrothed – Enma? – Benji – Betrothed – heirs – multiple – heirs – betrothed – Benji – sister – _Benji _Enma – king – _Enma_ \- Wait a second...

"Why hasn't Enma rubbed this in all our faces yet?" He asked mystically, his voice weak and mind drained from the revelations.

"I think they're waiting for him to, what's the phrase? _Grow up _a bit before letting him know of the possibility. Hey, do you wanna know what grandmother said to me, about me and Enma?"

"Probably not, but you're going to tell me anyway." A smile grew on his face at her familiar expression. Is it strange that the sight of his furious sister about to self combust from outrage brought comfort to his mind?

"Damn straight I am! She said that I was '_slow'_ and he was '_fast'_. My own grandmother called me slow! She said if we actually tried we would be a great match. She said we would _better_ each other!"

"_She_ seems to be saying quite a lot..."

"I can't believe this chick!"

Later, after some more mutual outraged over the situation and after a fair bit of therapy they managed to catch up with the party. Enma was up the front alongside his brother, so Benji stayed down the back. Needing a bit of space to think, Ulan decided to flank the party, going to the left since Nala already skirted the right. Conversations were mumbled sometimes between the cubs, Enma's now highly grating voice louder than the rest whenever he spoke. If his sister was valuable because she was Sarabi's granddaughter, then would his mother be even more valuable? Could this be why mother had been so restless? Was she worried about her own marriage, or was she up all day worrying about her young daughter's marriage? What did this mean for him? One day he might be brother to the Queen of the Pridelands. He would become incredibly politically important. Would a strange lioness from a strange pride be his future?

As if to solidify that this was turning out to be one of the worst days of his young life, after hours of searching, splitting up for leads, converging back together after finding nothing, they never found the rouge, not even a frickin hair.

Instead, the rouge found him.

* * *

_Bukoba the Rebel, hiding in the Grass:_

He wasn't sure what the Pridelanders did with their male cubs, eat them? Dump them? Chase them away? At least he could cross one thing of the potential list.

They certainly didn't train them.

The three lionesses had something resembling stealth, probably more of an innate female skill rather than from teachings. Especially that one loitering at the back, she moved quiet, like she was trying to sneak up on her own litter mates. The look in her eye suggested that he might be rather close to the truth with that observation. That loud one up the front had better count his days. Coming from a brotherhood where inter-fighting was rather common... maybe he put that a bit too lightly.

Coming from a brotherhood where inter-murdering was a bit too common, he could read that look clearly. He ran his eyes over the rest, chuckling at his own thoughts.

They send half-sized cubs after him? That's almost insulting, but, he would bet their not meant to be out here. Hmm, to think the Pridelanders would let such disrespect exist in their pride. It made sense, these golden kings were too weak to punish cubs. He had executed more than he cared to count, most in the name of the Alpha, many by his own judgement. He had maimed younger cubs for less.

Weak Pridelanders.

Just the image of Diku cavorting around with them made his claws unsheathe. The thought of some soft, mushy pridelander be honoured enough to get within an inch of her... Bukoba calmed himself down by planning all the different way he would kill the guy. Something occurred to Bukoba as he fantasised about throwing the mystery mate off Priderock, right from the very, very top. What if Diku begged for mercy, what if she genuinely loved the guy? A quick death, yes, or maybe a noble death by duelling him. After all, in a duel, if you lost it was only your own weakness to blame. What of the cubs? Would she shield their tiny bodies from him, would she look at him with hatred? Alpha would be pleased if he killed them. It would display the brotherhood's strength, but _would_ he do that? It would not be the first time he had pretended to kill cubs. But Alpha would most likely want to parade the bodies of the Pridelander's spawn alongside the body of the father.

He had never thought about the cubs. They would be small and defenceless, it would take one swipe and their spines would snap in two, instantly killing them. He should warn her, or get them away before it came to pass. Alpha wouldn't be suspicious, he never quested his loyalty, not after all these years together. It would not be strange for a mother to send her children away after being made aware of what lurked in the dark. But Kuu, that annoying creature Alpha was using as a mole. Would he pick up on it?

Bukoba continued shadowing the cubs, as he had been doing for the last hour. He had to think of a way... some way... he would not allow her to hate him. Alpha wouldn't understand. He would give her to him and say she was his and consider only that. But it was wrong, to consider only yourself when it came to taking a partner. He would sooner die than let the Alpha know, but he and Diku had been lovers once. In the months leading up to her disappearance they had shared countless passionate moments together. He loved to enjoy her body, but the true pleasure was in how _she_ enjoyed _his_ body.

Argh! Why was he sulking in the trees, dreaming about her body, when he should be madly thinking up schemes to save her cubs? She would not be happy with him if she knew. He could just hear her insults now. Even now, back from the seemingly dead, she was just as unreachable for him. Every plan lead to a dead end, he couldn't warn her, because she never left the rock anymore. He knew because he stalked it day and night. He couldn't just warn the whole pride, because then Kuu would know and realise who the warning had come from. He could kill Kuu, tempting, but he was needed to take control of the pride, and if he ruined that then he would never get to have her again no matter what. He was doomed. What he needed was a little bird, just one, just a tiny... little...bird.

Bukoba's gaze narrowed on the scrawny cubs. Just one would do. As the hours dragged on they drifted apart more and more, it would be easy to corner one. Especially considering that they were turning for home, and the closer they got to the rock, the more complacent they would become. It would be easy to scare one into silence. Once they relayed the message to Diku, she would know what to say to them, to keep them quiet. But being friendly with the enemy? Would she be punished? Would the cub run and tell the king about what they were told?

Whatever. Those Pridelanders were soft. It was probably boarding on acceptable to be having chats with the rouges. They probably encouraged it. Yeah, make a friend, good luck, get knocked up while you're at it, fresh genetics is always a plus. Crazy Pridelanders.

While thinking about the King, Bukoba realised he had forgotten one very important detail.

Sarabi.

For many in the brotherhood, their every waking moment was fuelled by the fact that she still lived. And lived to be a queen to some soft, foreign king, her one true love, the fallout from the rebellion and power shuffle ignored, was even more infuriating for them. Some hated her because they held onto the traditional ideals she had rebelled against and criminalised, but on the whole nearly all of them hated her for one single reason. It was her war that had orphaned them. It may not have been her personally, but her named appeared in all the legends, so all the blame was square on her shoulders. In his opinion, she was very smart to have left. The Lakelands would have caved in on itself in another desperate war if she had not.

Most had made it their life goal to slaughter her. However, most of the time they had to make do with the next best thing. Most of her cubs had been murdered by some wayward vengeance seekers. Kuu himself had been in the small party that managed to kill one of her oldest children, Bilga. Then he had gone and used her as his mother in his cover story. That was reason number three as to why he hated that kid so much.

Out of the eight cubs she had birthed, nine if you count that most recent cub, only three lived. One had scurried to the ends of the known world, the wisest of them all, and Diku was alive today only because of his protection. The brotherhood lions were too scared to cross him, or perhaps, too pleased that she was his 'play thing' to get in the way. Only Alpha, and now Kuu thanks to that conversation a few nights ago, believed that they had never been intimate. Everyone else in the brotherhood thought they were going at it whenever he wanted in every direction he pleased. He really owed it to Alpha for keeping his once true opinion to himself – it could have been quite dangerous if the actual loving nature of their relationship had been revealed.

The third cub, Taf, lived only because he led a coalition even the brotherhood feared to cross. He inherited the pride from his mother after she left for the Pridelands, and it had continued to expand under his guide. And he wasn't even a bloodthirsty tyrant; he was just a happy-go-lucky idiot. It constantly boggled his mind how Taf had managed to live when all the others didn't, it was better for his mental health if he simply stopped trying to figure it out. He may have worked undercover for the guy a few times but that did not make them friends and if the idiot ever tried to befriend him ever again he was going to throw that guy into the lake.

All this was why he was in such a delicate situation right now. The brotherhood wanted her and everyone she loved dead. He wanted her and everything she loved _alive, _preferably with all four legs and both eyes still attached, if he got real ambitious.

Half an hour passed. He spent his time moving silently in the wake of the cubs, his mind circling its own tail as he tried to find the loophole. A plan formed, it would be on the fly, but it would work.

Well, it had a high chance of working. The highest out of all his plans.

As predicted, the cubs relaxed and drifted as Priderock drew near. There was one drifter in particular, the one who had been moping around to the left of the cubs all day. The scary lioness seemed to be trying to console him, before going after the rest and leaving him behind. The boy sighed so sadly it sounded like his soul was accidentally being leaked out. Perfect prey. The cub got to his feet and followed as well, but at a much slower pace, with his paws dragging in the dust. Very slow. After about a minute, it wouldn't be noticeable to the others if he simply stopped following them. Bukoba scanned the area, which was becoming worrisomely familiar to him, and planned the perfect ambush. The cub steered a bit too far around that particular thicket, so he got in position at the next place, and it lined up perfectly. He was thankful that the herds had not come yet, otherwise the dense grasses that served so well for cover would have been chewed down to the roots.

Threading through the grass quietly, he pressed up against a large rock with prickle flowers growing out of its cracks. The cub walked alongside it, using its shadow to hide from the burning afternoon sun, just as planned. He started to creep around until he was prowling silently behind the cub.

His arm flashed out as quietly as his footsteps had been all morning. The cub jerked, which showed good instincts, but far too slow reflexes because he had been slapped against the rock and had the breath knocked out of him before anything else could be done. The kid bounced off the rock and onto the ground. The boy was too winded to do little more than_ epp_ as his paw pressed down upon his neck, his claws fluttering across his skin before digging in a fraction. The cub was smaller than he had first guessed, now that he had the child before him.

"Make a sound and I'll rip your throat out." Yellow eyes, which did not look as terrified as they ought to be, darted up to look at him. "I have a message for you to deliver, meant for one lion's ears only. If you dare tell any other soul it could endanger your pride." He leaned in and whispered. "There are enemies hidden within Priderock. It would not be wise to let them catch wind of this."

Now, with that all clear, it was time to get to the important part.

"This message will be told to Diku alone. Are we clear?" A frown and a quirking eyebrow was not the expression he had been hoping for.

"Get lost! What sort of shitty business do you have with her, fat pile of s-" he was cut off as Bukoba leaned more weight onto his neck and chocked him, taking the pressure off before too much harm could start.

"Good, so you know who I speak of." Once those eyes focused on him once more, he continued. "I am an old friend with good intentions. Diku would wish for you to follow my word. You can trust me on this." Bukoba then pulled his paw back and laid down on the ground, looking perfectly regal and harmless. He waited until the cub slowly drew to his feet before continuing. "See? Trustworthy." The glare sent his way was an improvement. To feel safe enough to display hostility was a vastly under appreciated state of being. "Tell her that it would be wise to send her cubs far, far away. Tell her that the Alpha is here, and he intends to kill them."

That got the cub's attention. Not that he didn't have his attention before but, at least in his thoughts he wasn't ranting on and on about how much he hated him. Instead, now there was focus on his every word.

"Send her cubs away?" The kid's hard yellow eyes bored into his own grey ones. Bukoba nodded solemnly. So this kid must know the cubs, to be so serious about the situation like he was. From then on, it felt like _he_ was the one being backed into a corner and interrogated.

"Some alpha intends to kill them? Why?"

"_The_ Alpha intends to kill them, so he can display their bodies alongside the father."

"Their father wants their bodies?"

"No. The Alpha wants their bodies, to put alongside their _dead_ father."

"Their father is dead?"

"No yet, but he will be."

"Who is he?"

"What?"

"What?"

A long stretch of silence.

"What do you mean 'who is he', don't you know?"

"No. Don't you know?"

"Isn't he a Pridelander?"

Another stretch of silence, as they both frowned at each other.

"No, not to my knowledge. He would probably be a Lakelander..."

"Lakelander... what do you mean... what does that mean?" The cub looked at him like he was an idiot.

"Lakelander refers to those bat shit insane lions to the west, by the great lakes?"

"Yes I know that. I meant, what makes you sure he is a Lakelander?"

"Well, she was already pregnant. The daddy is from the other place, not this place. Comprehend?"

"Already pregnant... like, how pregnant?"

"How should I know? I wasn't even born then!"

"This is, highly concerning. For me, that is. It could work out well for her. Possibly."

"Work out well? Are you nuts? Hey, you know something don't you? You gotta tell me, please, Benji would kill to know. Come on, please?" Bukoba would have noticed the pause, as if the kid was proof reading his words before they came out of his mouth. He would have picked up on it instantly, if only he hadn't just received such a bombshell. It was hard to think about how the cub seemed slow on his words, when your world had just been torn apart at the seams.

Holy, holy, holy, holy, _holy.._. It had occurred to him, but he didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to speculate or go fishing for confirmation. In fact, he pretty much barricaded his mind from all possible thoughts. But this was as good as decapitation. He did not notice how his body shook and his breathing hitched, but he did notice how the cub took a concerned step closer, probably to inspect him for a snake bite. He tried to stop the panic, but it got harder and harder.

One of their last conversations, right before she disappeared, she had asked him about cubs. She had asked him! About cubs! About names, if he ever had a chance. He had thought he was implying they start, so he had promptly told her that nononono definitely not a good time to start thinking about that. She had laughed at him, she said she wouldn't dream of starting a family with him, not until he left the brotherhood. Back then, he thought she was trying to lure him away with the promise of a family. It had been one of her best attempts, right up there with threatening to go and make a mate out of some random idiot from her pride. _At least he would be there, day and night for me_. He could stand her threats to run away, because at least she would be alive. If she went and got hitched to some pride bozo, much to the happiness of her stupid brother, then the brotherhood would promptly consider her fair game.

His authority in the brotherhood was the only thing that kept her safe. Why did she never manage to see that? If he left, she died, he died, everyone died. He wanted children involved in this stalemate relationship just as much as she did, which was to say, not at all.

She had started chatting about names. In the beginning he had just listened, stubbornly refusing to be sucked in. _Been?_ No. _Gillu?_ No. _Bukoba Junior?_ Double no. _Tanza?_ Glare. _Sarabi Junior?_ Hell to the no!

Then he had said Benji, after _his_ mother. Why he had said that, he'll never know. Older lions had told him about her, and those stories were the only reason he ever knew she existed. Well, other than his obvious existence, of course. Diku would never disrespect him by naming someone else's cubs after his mother. She knew how much it meant to him, her name. Hell, he had a hard time imaging her with anyone else. She never really was what most considered a 'catch'. Polite_, forget it,_ nice, _in your dreams_, friendly, _are we talking about the same lioness here?_

"So she's got one girl? Or is there more?" He got to his feet, trying to pace the panic out of him. The shivers started to subside and his breathing begun to level. He was turned away, so he missed the expression of alarm that crossed the cub's face.

"Ahh, no, two of them. Two girls."

"What's the other cub's name?"

"Should I be telling you this?" Bukoba's eyes darkened and he inched forward to glare deep into the little Pridelander's eyes.

"Yes, you should. And you will." Ulan was more afraid in that moment then he had been while being chocked. He picked the first name that came to mind.

"Nala."

"Benji and Nala. Shit, shit." Bukoba's pacing started to turn into high strung racing. He whipped around to look at the cub, causing the small kid to jump. "Forget everything okay? Don't tell a soul. And I'm super serious about that. You do have enemies on the inside, let nothing slip. Those kids lives depend on silence. Got it?" Once the cub had slammed his mouth shut and nodded with wide eyes, he spun away. Bowling off into the evening, not caring if he was spotted or not, because right now he had enough energy and adrenaline screaming through his highly emotional system that he could make it to the Lakelands and back.

Ulan watched the big lion go.

Forget everything?

Was he _joking?_ That lion was obviously not thinking clearing by the end. Now that he mentioned it, neither had he. This was not good. He was not sure what level of trouble he had just caused, but it was important that mother knew as soon as possible.

The message _was_ meant for her ears only. What message that was exactly, was a bit confusing by the end of that conversation. Best to be on the safe side and tell her everything. And since Benji had been so kind and waited a tiny two weeks before telling about the whole Enma situation, he felt a bit of sweet revenge was in order. However, he would wait only one week, since he was a just and merciful being.

And because, he might just crack if he waited any longer. This was too good to not share.

* * *

_*Spins around in a chair while stroking a hairless cat* MWHAHA! We're officially in the 100k+ club now, my first fic to make it this far, I'm majorly excited to start pulling all the strings I've been laying these past ten chapter. Don't forget to review!_


	11. Prepare For The Coup Of The Century

Prepare For The Coup Of The Century

Nala, of Pride Rock:

Geremin had died that morning. The half tailed, scar-sided beast had stopped breathing while sleeping in her den. It was a nice way to go.

Nala watched as her mother tried to force her tears back, creating a horrible sound and not serving to hide her grief at all. Her face was pushed into father's chestnut mane, trying to disappear and hide. Nala knew what grief looked like. She knew how it felt. Scrunched up in pain, ears twisted and tucked. When she was a cub, after Simba's death, she cried every night. She remembers how it felt, all burning and hollow.

She didn't want to be here.

Father's orange eyes travelled to where they sat. With a tiny narrowing of his gaze and yank of his head, he gave them both permission to leave the vigil over Geremin's body. Berta trotted out quickly, ever obedient to father, with Nala following in her sister's shadow.

"Do you think mother will be alright?" Berta whispered as they came to stroll shoulder to shoulder.

"I don't know," she snapped.

Nala didn't mean to snap, she was just fuzzy and annoyed. Annoyance was an emotion she had gotten used to, it was almost constant this moon. Feeling fuzzy and sad on top of that? Ergh. It was getting to her. Stupid pride mentoring her to some old lazy warrior. How obvious could she possibly have made it that she wanted to be a hunter? It's not like she hadn't spent _every single waking moment _honing her hunting craft. And now, what? She was going to be trained into some brawling idiot? A warrior? What the hell was there to fight?

The good season was almost upon them. The return of the migration, daily rainfall making muddy creeks run clear and the grass grow above their heads. It was due to be a violent season if the bird talk held true. Apparently the East was bearing the brunt of it now, lashed by violent storms and soothed with floods. The talk went that the storms had made a lake out of deserts, and the thunder had been so violent mountains sank to their knees. Even the Wasteland was starting to bloom after a hundred years of dusty bones.

Travellers spoke of the storms like a beast, a thing stalking them, a predator. Nala rolled her eyes when they got talking. The weaver birds where the worst for it, gossiping about bad omens and whole herds swallowed by the storms, vanishing overnight.

Dust still got up her nose and the rivers were low. Hippos tumbled around in them with permanent grumpiness, and the grass had started to bleach and thin. If this storm to end all storms was on its way to destroy their lands, then she hoped it would hurry up.

"Are you doing anything with Magnar today?" Her sister asked brightly, an attempt at cordial conversation. At the mention of her mentor, Nala's eyes rolled backwards. "He might call it off, with your grandmother dying overnight and all..." Nala wondered about the probability of that. Magnar was an old thing with more scars then skin and three missing toes. As tended to be the way with those who lived to old age. He would probably leap at the excuse to cancel training.

"Hmm, there is a high chance of that," Nala admitted, jumping softly down the rocks with her sister shadowing behind. "What about you and Sarabi?"

"Hunting. We always hunt. The pride needs food." Berta looked unimpressed by the idea, as if the thrill of a hunt had become a chore to her.

Nala felt the now familiar twist of jealously, why couldn't she be a hunter? She was the best at it! No, instead she got Magnar. She brushed that useless twinge aside, intent to forget about it. She needed to focus on productive thoughts. Pride unity. Impressing lionesses with hunting skills, killing Magnar, hiding the body, being reassigned. It was a simple but flawless plan.

Two lumbering males were coming along the path towards them, and Nala nimbly made to weave around.

"Wait, girls, you know where you Dad is?" Zareh asked, his ridiculously chirpy green eyes now sober and tired. Berta was the one to answer.

"He's up the rock. Mum's trying to pull herself together." Zareh nodded mutely to Berta and started to turn, giving Nala a clear view of who was behind him. Surprise rushed through her as she recognised their King.

She hadn't seen Scar in days, and it was super weird for him to be following Zareh around. They hardly talked and seemed to shrink at the sight of one another. There was obviously a long standing feud between them, one that left an old and bitter wound. There was talk about them being half-brothers, she never believed that, but...

They usually seemed so starkly different you wouldn't believe there was a drop of shared blood between them. Scar was all red and dark while Zareh was gold and honey. The only colours they shared was the green eyes, and even that was different. One chipper and light, the other jaded and dark. But, standing next to each other like this, a rare sight, in the orange light of dawn... Nala could see it now. They had the same high cheekbones and triangle noses with soft willowy manes.

Zareh's eyes were open and kind as he looked at the cubs. They seemed to shimmer just because of how he smiled. Scar's eyes were closed and cold, hooded and dangerous. On the strange occasions that a smile found its way onto his face, those eyes glinted.

It was like night and day.

"Ah, sorry," Zareh muttered as he turned and noticed Scar behind him. He side stepped and let their King move softly by, his entire posture dropping into submission. Scar's head dipped as he drew close to her, his gravelly voice just loud enough for her and Berta to hear.

"Immediate blood ties will be excused for three days mourning. Which includes you two. Let that mentor of yours know that does not mean _he_ is free of duties. I want that rouge rooted out before sunset, understood?" Nala nodded, a cheeky smile on her face at the King's distain for Magnar. Scar then grunted and brushed past, a small nod spared for Berta before he disappeared around the rock face. He never so much as glanced Zareh's way. The half-brother didn't seem too upset by this; he had already turned away and started down the rock face.

Nala followed after Zareh to where the pride was gathering for the morning meetings. Mufasa was lying in his usual place by the den's mouth, talking with some lionesses and Sarabi. The Queen's eyes flicked up and caught her, jerking her head in a clear gesture to come over. Nala frowned, not sure what for as she took slow steps in the Queen's direction. Had she finally realised her mistake? Was it finally time to go out and hunt? A ball of hope lodged in her throat and threatened to choke her.

Berta brushed past, jogging over to Sarabi and starting to rapidly answer the Regent Queen's questions. Ah, Sarabi had been looking at Berta instead. Nala shook herself and walked off in search of her mentor, hoping no one saw that embarrassing slip.

Magnar was sunning himself on Pride Rock's eastern face, purring in his sleep. He was so old his purrs sounded like a rabbit chocking, one too many blows to the throat, he had explained once. The joys of being a warrior.

"Oi," Nala growled, jumping up beside him and swatting at his nose with one pink paw. He groaned and yawned like the grumpy hippo he was, twisting around and scratching his back against the ground.

"Shouldn't you be off somewhere crying with family?" He growled as Nala plonked herself down on the warm rock and tucked her paws neatly underneath her chest.

"No. We're not much for wallowing. Scar said you are on rouge hunting duty today, and he wants him found before sunset." Magnar's one good eye popped open to glare at her.

"Young Scar says that every morning, but it's still been three days and nothing yet." He rolled away from her, muttering under his breath. "Just cause he freakin hates rouges doesn't mean I have to go chasing them down like some nitwit..." He said a few more sentences after that, but it was too slurred for Nala to pick. Magnar then groaned and dragged himself to his feet.

"Come on little devil, there is a favourite sunning spot of mine out to the west I'd like to visit today." Rolling his shoulders and stretching his back out, he smirked at Nala's wince when his spine cracked all the way along.

"I think Scar wants us to find the _rouge,_ not some _rocks_. But that could just be me misinterpreting something." One eyebrow was up and the other scrunched down, a judgmental glare on her young face.

"Who's the mentor here?" He snapped, looking skyward as he pleaded to the ancestors. "Father give me strength!" Nala got to her feet alongside him, also looking skyward.

Grandmother give _me_ strength.

Nala was pleased as she always was to see how tall she was getting. Her eyes were level with the centre of her mentor's burly chest. Magnar was nowhere near the biggest lion in the pride, but she still felt accomplished as they stood side by side. "We get high, we stay quiet, and more often than not the prey slinks right into our paws. I thought you were some proud hunter or something? Ambush one-oh-one little devil."

"I was under the impression lions were a bit harder to hunt than any other beast." Nala said sourly, thinking back on the secret hunt the cubs had gone on together. They had searched for hours on a fresh scent, and there had been so many of them, but still nothing. Poor Ulan had looked lost and stricken for days afterwards. Magnar snorted loudly, nearly missing his step down the rocks.

"You can use the time to hunt, you like doing that, right? And you will serve as good bait if he is as big and bad as everyone is fretting about."

"You think they are wrong to worry?" Nala never considered the possibility. It didn't make sense to question lions as wise as Sarabi or Scar.

"Not wrong, just, so worried they are tripping over facts. Lesson in observation little devil, have you noticed that the lioness who encountered him is the least panicked of the lot?"

No, she hadn't realised that.

There was nothing to hunt by Magnar's sunning rocks, which was by far the most annoying thing of today, an accomplishment considering how supremely annoying the day had been already. He had her drill fighting strikes instead, claiming that the burn of the rising sun was only a small bite to endure. It would toughen her. During midday she went and napped in the shade with him, exhausted beyond belief. It was nice out here. Quiet and calm. The noise and bustle of the pride gone. The wind was cool against her sweat soaked body, and the unending grass rustled like a song. She wondered if her grandmother was out here, touring her home one last time before leaving to the stars and joining Simba.

The clouds were beautiful today, all long and wispy, layered above one another as they were spun between horizons. She wondered if they were the beginnings of the rainstorms, finally rolling in from across the Wastelands.

That night the clouds had gone and the sky was brilliantly clear, obviously the storms were still far off. The stars were magnificent, and she had spent all night peering out at them from the top of Pride Rock.

Nala, Three Months Later

It was just before the rains came when the sharp toothed lioness arrived with her three dark cubs. There had been brief showers and happy rain flittering into the Pridelands, but the ground still felt parched under her paws. The gnu were only now reaching the border, slowed down by floods and distracted by new lush plains.

"They say the gnu are close, like, a few are already here close. I can't wait! It will be a paradise, herds as far as the eye can see." Sade had practically drooled as she gossiped with Nala earlier that day. "More meat then I can eat! Can you imagine? It feels like I've been starving all my life, look at me! I'm skin and bone!" Nala chuckled in the back of throat at her best friend's antics.

"Just because there are more of them, it doesn't get easier to hunt one down." The young lioness glared at her, her pink tongue licking her lips clean and running over razor teeth.

"Well at least they will be easier to find," Sade grumbled, her paws twitched underneath her and claws extended to chip against the rock. If it was anyone else, Nala would have made a joke about her not being able to find a gnu even if it kicked her. However, Sade was becoming one of the best hunters the pride had. The bronze lioness had great instincts, and she had been forged by the best hunter their pride had until, well, that hunter died. After Grandmother's death the pride scrambled to find a suitable mentor for Sade.

She had tagged along with other cubs, at times joining Nala in her warrior lessons and patrolling the borders. Once even Rafiki the baboon had taken her out and taught her to read tracks in the earth. Even more bazaar, King Scar had allowed her to ghost along with him as he did his usually wandering things or... whatever he did when he wasn't at Pride Rock. That could only last so long, Sarabi said day in and day out, a cub needed training not supervision.

In the end Diku claimed her. The lioness was mature, a good hunter, and had proven herself loyal to the Pridelands. She was one of the last full-time hunters the pride had left, but splitting her time was a blow the pride would weather. They were strong, no prides pressed their borders or begged for aid, no lords were disputing land rights and any predator attacks were taken care of by oddly bloodthirsty hyenas. Magnar called it a _suspiciously peaceful tim_e.

Trouble steered clear now that Scar had established his reign. A crushingly powerful rule, with no room for mercy.

During the day, when everyone was asleep, Sade would teach Nala hunting, and Nala would tell her about the warrior lessons. She had taken an intense interest in them after those days ghosting Scar. They would play in the tiny shadow that Pride Rock cast at midday, pouncing around like cubs and pricking their ears to the rustle of birds overhead. They would sit, heads pushed together and whisper.

Tonight will be different. Nala's eyes roved around impatiently searching for her friend, annoyance flaring inside her. Magnar, her Father and King Scar had already gathered at the foot of Pride Rock, talking quietly about the coming hunt. Even the hyena were here, both of them lying in the grass and panting with excitement.

Nala's belly had been fluttering ever since she was told the news that morning, and it had only grown as the sun set. A big hunt. The type that was a warrior's duty. The day Magnar had told her about this particular responsibility was the day she stopped complaining. For what felt like moons she has been waiting for this, and now it was here. Sure she was under strict instructions to watch only and hang behind, but _ancestors_ was her heart pounding in anticipation. Just the thought of it, a buffalo, with the size and strength of a mountain.

What was taking Sade and Diku so long? When two lions became visible under the moonlight, she almost roared at them to run the last hundred meters down the rocky slope. She bit her tongue when the outline of the other's sleek mane became apparent.

Scar rumbled a greeting, but as they drew closer, the warmth in his voice quickly cut off. It was Zareh who had brought Sade, his green eyes looking at them all guiltily.

"Diku has taken sick, nothing serious but enough to endanger the hunt. Sarabi has asked me to take her place for tonight." As he spoke Sade bounced up to Nala's side, the stars making the pools of her eyes shimmer. It was the look of an excited cub, undoubtedly Nala looked similar.

"You are not a warrior, why not someone else. Lea or that Kuu?" Her father asked Zareh with curiosity. Scar was sitting stiffly as they spoke, something darker then annoyance flashing in the cracks of his usually solemn expression.

"Busy or tired. I will fill the position you planned for Diku well enough, she was not a warrior either."

Magnar grunted his approval of the change. As the most experienced his opinion held weight. Scar's eyes skittered to the side and regarded the old lion's expression before nodding his head and turning away. Nothing more needed to be said.

They streamed out, settling into single file as they trotted across the land. Scar led, his pace sure and quick. He was a traveller, and he looked more comfortable then she had ever seen him. They said he could cross the entire Pridelands in a night if there was no companion to slow him down. Next was Magnar, then her as his shadow. After that the two hyena, Zareh and Sade, then her father at the rear.

They went to the last place the herd had been seen. A watch had been put on them over the day, lionesses tracking their movements and searching for any injured. There was two, an elderly and one weak from a brawl with the herd boss. Magnar had said they would likely go for the injured bull simply because Scar was itching for a battle.

Everyone knew about Scar's temper. He had once been a quiet King, back when the cubs were young and he was new to the throne, but after his lioness left him something changed. There was more glaring and roaring, more arguing with Sarabi and disappearing for days and nights. His hyena saw more of him then the pride did this particular moon.

His hyena. She could feel the one behind her, breathing down her back. The pride was in their debt after the Gnu Massacre, she heard tales of how they fought savagely and bravely. More hyena died that night then lions, and so they won a debt. They were easy to live with once you got used to the occasion brawl breaking out in the heat of high day. They protected Pride Rock's blind side, making the ancestral seat of power more impenetrable then it had been in generations. They were a key part of King Scar's rapid hold to power. Sarabi said they need them for stability... for now.

But when Scar changed they changed too. They were definitely his dogs, not the prides'. An uneasy feeling started to accompany them whenever they were close. Some instinctual knowledge that if Scar wasn't there, the pride would have been double crossed by now.

They arrived at the wallow, catching their breath and lapping at the muddy water quickly. They were allowed to talk, but no one was. Nala turned to Sade but her words caught in her throat.

An itch of worry had started. The adrenaline was still there, but fuelled by a tiny seed of panic. Something was _off_. She would even go so far as to say that something was _wrong. _The night felt like a stranger.

She was meant to be shadowing Magnar tonight, but unthinkingly she started to gravitate towards her father. They picked up on the ridiculously wide and smelly trial that all large herds left, and set out again. Scar still lead, but now his hyena's flanked him, with Magnar, Sade, herself, Father then Zareh.

The longer they trotted, the bigger the gap between Scar and everyone else became. His hyena's kept up, tongue's lolling out the side of their jaws, flecks of foam on their sides, but the rest of the party kept to the pace Magnar had set. Slower, steadier... more weary, as if he was unsure of what he was leading them into.

The smell of the buffalo grew thick and strong. Their scent was a pungent one, muddy from the wallow they had spent the day in, and meaty. The air was also heavy with dung and sweat - letting the lions know that the herd had been camped under these trees for awhile. Most likely since sunset.

She could pick the moment when Magnar realised there was going to be no careful planning and waiting. A quiet growl sounded from his chest, and his pace kicked up into a gallop. Her father clung tight to him, matching the sprinting pace as they tried to position themselves either side of the buffalo herd before Scar and his hyena could break from the grass and startle the herd. She and Sade tried their best, but they could only muster half the speed. Nala watched with growing dread has her mentor and father disappear from view.

Magnar had told her, that a reckless hunt was the most dangerous there was.

"Girls!" Zareh snapped from behind them, making them both slow and look to him. The hunt was starting. The hyena's were already laughing and the herd had started to bellow, making the night air explode with anger.

The roar of the bull was deafening. Nala's feet went cold with the thought that once day she would be expected to face off against such an animal.

Zareh started to lead them around, trying to find a safer spot where they could watch the battle unfold. The ground trembled, as the herd broke and started to trample through the long grass. Zareh's ears pitched up and down as he tried to pin which direction they had broke in. Nala knew it was towards them when he snapped around like a viper, eyes liquid bright with urgency. He jumped into a run that ripped his mane away from his face, they tried to follow, but once again their paws could only strike a pace half that of the grown beast.

The first buffalo came through the tall grass, missing them by a meter. Sub-adults and crying cows ran after, clumped together like a rock fall. Hooves struck so hard that she thought the earth would crack open. Weaving wildly she managed to clear the herd and gulp in rasping breaths. Just as she and Sade managed to catch up to Zareh, a cow saw the shape of the lion from the corner of her eye and spun around to charge him wildly.

Sade scattered like a sparrow, but Nala's eye snapped up to look in the white's of the approaching animal. She was massive, horns as wide as Nala was long, coats upon coats of dried mud covering her like armour, muscles that bunched and sprung, catapulting her unbelievable weight at a speed fit for a proud lioness.

All her life hunting had been fun. Stalking lizards, ground birds and little antelope. For the first time Nala knew the fear her prey must have felt whenever she came bearing down on them.

She didn't decide on anything. It happened too fast for her to really think about it. Instinct and fear was what drove her to leap high and into its face. Their eyesight was bad, but if she darted to the side at such close range, she would have seen her and could have charged in confusion. And there would be no time to gather herself and run again if that happened. She had to jump high, any lower and she would slam into her and be thrown down under her hooves.

Nala soared like the young cat she was. The shadow of her caused the cow to lower her head in panic at the last second and a horn caught her in her gut, but thankfully not high enough to crack a rib. It felt like being flung at a rock, and all her breath was knocked from her. The cow bellowed in outrage as Nala slumped and flipped from her forehand down onto her back.

The cow lifted her head up, trying to throw the lioness. It was enough for Zareh, she heard him roar as she tumbled, felt the breeze as one of his paws slammed down an inch from her face. Her eyes were squeezed shut in prayer – a novice mistake. Her head was wacked hard by something on her way down, arse over end. Whether it was Zareh or the cow she would never know.

Her fall to the ground was less like a landing and more like a blow. As if the dirt had decided it wanted to be in on the hunt as well. Nala groaned and rolled, staggering and moving as quickly as she could away from the phenomenally deafening sounds that Zareh and the cow were making. It sounded like murder. It probably was. Someone was going to be murdered tonight.

Prey usually dies quickly and quietly, eyes looking up to the clouds or stars, gasping in exhaustion as they wait for the lionesses to finish it.

Buffalo have other plans. She should have expected it, way back when Magnar told her that the beasts would sooner turn around to kill you then they were to run.

Nala was gasping terribly, trying to get her breath back and hold down the growing need to thrown her guts up. Her vision had cleared, so at least there was that. She looked around, searching for Sade. A roar she knew to be Magnar's boomed from behind her, making her spin fast enough that she saw the moment he flung himself from the grass and onto the cow's back, claws ripping cakes of mud away from its skin and giving his jaws access to the flesh beneath.

Blood came from her sides just as it was coming from her neck, where Zareh was working his fangs deeper and deeper into the thick muscle. It fought for another ten minutes, losing rivers of blood but still fighting and shaking ferociously. Nala almost cried in fear when it managed to drive and trap Zareh between its skull and the ground, she through for sure it was the end of him. Somehow he managed to twist and kick away, ripping up the part of throat he had been biting into. It was such a large chunk that flaps of hide flopped out the sides of his jaws, and when he spat it out, the chunk rolled. It had to have killed it, but the cow still stood on locked legs. Zareh was too injured to go on, instead limping back to shield Nala and Sade should anything happen. By what means, she did not know.

It took King Scar to finish it, roaring and covered in blood – so much that his mane was mattered and weighed down with it, making the sound of wet slapping as he ran towards the bull. His lunge was precise, the weakening bull not as fast as it was when Zareh had first gone of its throat first. Scar's fangs found the sweet spot, tucked just underneath the cow's jawline. He bite down with a gurgling growl as the blood rushed into his mouth.

The cow remained standing for ten more seconds, still and silent besides her massive ragged breaths. Then she sunk to her knees, crying a keen cry for herd mates, sisters or perhaps her bull. Her eyes roved around, searching for hope or comfort as she fell down like a hundred year old tree. The cow's lips formed words, but nothing came out besides wheezing. Scar's bite had been deep enough to destroy the windpipe and everything else that lay there, in that sweetly venerable spot. The King started to shake and tear at the throat now that the cow had fallen, shaking like a crocodile tearing meat off a bloated corpse. He ripped the cow's throat apart, pulling back with his own mouthful of blood, arteries and the strewn vital pipes.

Nala knew Scar's eyes were green, but they looked to truly be as black as underground caves that night. Bottomless and swimming with rage and pride.

A wet nose pressed against her side, making her jump. Her heart had crawled so high in her own throat that her scream was soundless. Nala looked at the face of her own father, who was inspecting her for wounds.

"Alright?" He asked her, breath still short from the hunt. Nala could see in the way his orange eyes burned and flickered around with worry that her father knew tonight could have been much worse. She feared to look at Magnar's face. He would be furious. But the old lion was holding his tongue as he circled the bull and came over. He would hold it until the colour returned to Scar's eyes, and then he will roar at him for breaking from the hunting party. He would roar that stupid hunts like this was how young warriors were killed. He would roar to his daughter, to Nala, to Sarabi and Mufasa, and then eventually he will calm back down. Her father and Magnar shared a dark look, both still gulping in air and eyes haywire with adrenaline.

"Zareh, how bad are the injuries?" Magnar asked, making the lithe male shake his head and wince. He knew better then to make them out as nothing. Her mentor's old face tightened and he grunted.

"I will fetch the baboon. You must lay. Sade," her fellow sub-adult flinched at the call of her own name, "Geremin must have taught you something of healing, inspect him and do what you can." Magnar tossed a look over his shoulder to King Scar, who was busy eating into the bull's neck. "The two hyena are at a kill they've made downwind." Her father sighed and nodded sternly. "Watch out the herd, or the herd bull, does not double-back". Magnar jogged off, it did not occur to Nala that she should have shadowed him... they had both slipped out of lesson mode long ago.

Nala watched as Sade inspected Zareh, getting him to move and rotate what joints he could, trying to locate any broken bones. She washed what blood she could from him, searching for cuts. Sitting quietly and listening to Sade talk was calming. Her heart rate returned to normal and breathing levelled. With cold fear now gone, Nala walked over to look curiously at the cow. Scar was eating quietly, every now and then a sound like a snore coming from him when blood clogged his nostrils. The hyena were making more noise than him, and they were a ways away.

She wondered what it took to break the hide of a buffalo, and so she tried to bite through the skin on her exposed side. It was tough and thick, she had to turn her head and grind it between her sharp back molars for it to unravel. The muscle underneath was tough as well, dense with strength. She must have been a lead cow, or perhaps a deputy. Nala wondered how the herd would fair now with two of their strongest killed tonight.

She ate for as long as she could, and when she stood up to inspect the damage, it looked like she had barely begun. The pride will eat good on this, gorge themselves fuller then they have been in moons. Tonight and into the morning, possibly into the evening as well.

"Scar, we're going back to fetch the clan. We'll let your lionesses know too, eh?" The hyena were licking their lips clean beside the kill, one even licking her toes clean. They had appeared from nowhere and Nala frowned in disappointment. She should have noticed them coming. Scar just grunted and waved his tail. They giggled and left, still high on the success of a hunt.

The King looked up and watched them go, he had worked a bone from the leg and was rolling it around his mouth. His molars made harsh sounds as he chewed on it.

Scar's eyes were normal again, lighter then they had been in awhile, like the fresh meat had flushed his system. He looked at her and smirked.

"So how was your first hunt?" The King's cheeky smile banished all tension from her. Nala matched his smirk, looking to the sky in an act of thought.

"Hmmm, I think you might be in _trouuubleee_." She teased, "Magnar didn't look very happy." Scar scoffed and spat the vertebrae out.

"Magnar never looks happy. The most successful hunting we've had in moons, and he is still sour like corpse milk."

That may be true, but she had learned to respect Magnar these last three months. When he became disappointed in her, she felt ashamed. When he gave advice, she listened. Kings, she decided, did not feel shame like the normal lion. They were, after all, Kings.

Zareh tenderly walked over, Father and Sade both watching him closely. Scar was in such a good mood that he did not even glare as his relation drew within five meters of him. Zareh picked his spot just behind the front legs to starting eating at, her father inspected where she had ate and took his own mouthfuls from there. Sade was still busy sniffing and jumped whenever her whiskers caught on the cow's hair.

Nala's eyebrows rose when a crow bravely landed by the kill, squawking nosily at them. Scar stared at it in surprise too before his face lit in realisation.

"I'd best guard the other kill," he told them while getting to his paws. With the large males starting to tuck into the bull, Nala knew their attention would be wholly undivided for a long time. She leapt off the buffalo and chased after him, Sade watching her closely but not following.

Scar led her out of the tall grass to an expanse of land the herd had chewed down. The kill was visible now. He was the inquired bull, young but still massive. A trio of crows, an eagle-owl and a vulture had already gathered. They were currently squabbling over access to the gash the hyena had left, hissing and puffing up at one another. Scar crossed the chalky ground in no rush, birds ate next to nothing. It was when they started to crowd like flies that they could strip a kill to the bones.

The crows jumped into the air and flapped away when they saw them, the rest backpedalled, hissing. The vulture made an ambitious threat display at them, raise his wings out and screeching. Scar humoured it with a snarl that sent it scrambling backwards.

It attracted a lot of interest. The thundered of the hunt and stink of so much blood was a beacon. Many more birds started to gather at the edges and soar above them in the night. Even the yips of curious jackals could be heard sometimes.

Nala licked at where the blood had blackened and congealed, there was _so much _blood in a buffalo that it could make a meal on its own. Looking up, she caught Scar's eye. He was watching her with a raised eyebrow.

"That's not your kill to have," he warned her. No, it was the hyenas. They had brought this one down and claimed it. Nala hadn't really been trying to eat it, she knew how stroppy they could get when it came to food. Another sensitive subject.

Scar set about working a new bone free and took to chewing on it to pass the time. He could do as he pleased, as both lion king and honorary hyena king. At some point three impatient vultures got fed up and came back to the kill, but Scar sent them flapping.

The grass rustled, the sound coming slowly closer. A large beast was wondered through it. Nala first assumed it was the hyena returning, but they were coming from the wrong direction, Scar had gone quiet. It didn't smell of his hyena. It was a strange smell, unrecognisable but distinctly lion. She became tense, thoughts of the rouge from months ago racing through her mind. Would Scar be enough to drive him off? He was meant to be a large, boisterous male and if he wanted the kill he would gamely fight them for it.

Her fears washed away when the sleek body of a lioness emerged from the grass. Nala sighed and smiled in the blood rush that followed scares. Scar though... he was still tightly coiled, like a tree who grew out a cliff face.

Her shape was different to what Nala knew. Thinner in every way, ears sharp like fangs and eyes that glinted dangerously no matter how simpering she tried to be. The grass rustled loudly and then another lioness stepped out. Now they no longer had the numbers, and she grew weary again.

"State your business," Scar growled impatiently. The second lioness chuckled.

"Forgotten me already? Oh dear, this is going to be a bit awkward then." She drew beside the smaller lioness, the moonlight striking her and casting her face clearly.

The King growled. He knew the female then, but his reaction was closely guarded. Nala had no way of picking if she was a friend or a threat.

"What are you doing here? You couldn't leave fast enough and now you just waltz back in - there are pardons you need to seek to cross the borders, you know this." As Scar spoke they both spotted a third lioness waiting in the grass, concealed. The cub beside her had grown impatient and given away her position.

"Hmm, yes I know this, but we do not work with the birds like your kind does." The lioness followed their line of sight and clicked her tongue. "Come out Bela," she commanded, sounding like she was steeling herself.

The hidden lioness slinked out, followed by two – no, three cubs. They were small. For the first time Nala truly felt grown, bulky and strong next to the tiny chubbiness of these cubs.

"Once they were old enough to manage the distance, I brought them. I believe introductions are in order. Scar, meet my cubs, Nuka, Haru and Shetani."

They look like him, was the first thought to come to her mind. All the stranger lionesses were fawn, but these cubs had varying shades of red in their coats. Dread filled her as realisation of what the lioness was implying hit. Nala didn't dare turn her head to the side to see what Scar's expression said, it was probably as unreadable as ever. She didn't know how he would react, good or bad, or if he had even pick up on the undercurrent yet. They fell deathly silent, waiting for a response, even the scavengers had quietened. Nala fought to keep the cheeky grin off her face. This was juicy gossip of the highest order.

"This is not a funny joke, Zira," Scar scoffed. The eyes of the Zira lioness flashed in anger, rightly upset that her cubs had been called a joke.

"You think I would joke about this?" She hissed. The King drew away and cursed quietly into his mane, nose scrunched up the more time past, like his thoughts were taking him to more and more unsavoury conclusions. The King leaned over and whispered an order to her.

"Could you leave for a moment?"

Nala dumbly nodded and ducked away, quickly loping across the plain. Eyes bore into her back as she went, watching to make sure she left. Nala focus on looking relaxed as she ran, fast but not too fast. They must think she wasn't a threat, or perhaps didn't pick up on the secret, maybe they thought she had not paid close attention or the dark of the night concealed the cubs enough.

The embrace of the grass was dry and pricklier then before. Rushing towards her father and Zareh, the more distance she put between herself and the King, the more worried she became. He was alone with three unknown lionesses, maybe she should have hidden nearby and watched over in case something happened? No. If the discussion was about the matter she thought it might be, he would have listened to the rustle of the grass disappear to make sure she truly left. Nala's pace picked up again, going so fast now the grass whipped at her. She should tell father and Zareh, they will protect the King.

_Zareh is injured,_ she remembers.

When Nala finally reaches the kill, she opens her mouth to tell them, but no words come out. Looking at the three others, a thought has occurred. Scar can be a kind lion sometimes, but his temper is terrible. No one can really know what will set him off. Scar's face had been dark when he whispered to her. He did not want her there, he wanted the lioness and cubs to be a secret, at least for now. It would cost her nothing to keep quiet until Scar told them himself, a far safer option then speaking and risking his ire.

Sade was licking her lips and watching her out of one eye.

"You look like somebeast was chasing you," the caramel lioness probed. Nala scoffed at her.

"Just burning off the adrenaline."

"The hunt was a while ago Nala..."

"Hey! I was the first to attack this beast and hold it down, a success like that buzzes for hours," Sade laughed at her. Flopping on her side the lioness continued to chuckle as she groomed the blood from her fur.

Nala cautiously looked around, neither Zareh or her father was paying her any attention. Quietly she went to her friend's side and lied down, silently blending into the deep night, waiting to see what was to come of the visitors.

Rafiki arrived under a high moon, looped over his back was a pouch made of knotted vines with medicines stuffed in it. Magnar carried another sack of herbs and strange fruits between his teeth.

"What have we here?" The baboon asked softly coming over to Zareh. Sade reported what injuries she had checked for, but the ape repeated the tests anyway, double checking the lioness's work. Nala remained silent, sitting like a statue. She watched as everyone else talked and moved around, putting healing salve on his open wounds and rubbing strengthening herbs into meat for him to digest. Magnar joked that he had been tenderised by the buffalo, Rafiki muttered that the statement was not far off the truth. He was fine, but if they were not careful worse things would come, infections his weakened body couldn't fight and bruising so deep organs might fail.

"There is damage on the inside," Rafiki said as his large palm rested on Zareh's side. "But luckily no ruptures – unless you've been coughing up blood?"

"No, I have felt sick and like throwing up, but I have not tasted my own blood in my mouth." Raifiki nodded slowly, his attention on the rib bones underneath Zareh's honey fur.

"There most likely is small cracks in your ribs, but they have not broken so bad as to pop apart. Become unaligned. You will need lots of rest, bones take a long time to heal themselves."

Rafiki was dressing Zareh's wounds with a mache of leaves soaked with sweet smelling medicine when Mother arrived. She searched Father in relief, shooting Zareh guilty looks.

"The hyena told us a male had been injured, I worried it was you. They are terrible at telling lions apart, they couldn't tell me for sure." Father purred as they rubbed cheeks.

"Where are the rest?" He asked. Mother chuffed in laughter, leaving him to come over and nudge Nala hello.

"The clan has broken out in fights again, so the hyena will be a bit slower to make it." Mother groomed her fur where it had become ruffled, making Nala feel like a cub again, safe and small. "The pride is close, I'm one of the scouts, so they should only be a minute. Send out a roar so they know." Father obeyed, turning around and roaring into the night. It was the loud, echoing ones that swept across the flat Pridelands making the air shake.

Sarabi arrived soon after that, going straight to Zareh to check on him. Her two grandcubs, Benji and Ulan came next. Nala paused. Should she tell Sarabi? Maybe if she quietly took her aside and informed her about some strange lionesses across the field? Once the Queen was done with checking Zareh, she'll ask for a moment. Yes, that's what she'll do. Nala squirmed uneasily where she lay in the grass, trying to talk confidence into herself. More of the pride arrived, making the place crowded and noisy as they started to eat their portions from the cow. Before they could destroy the kill too much, Rafiki got in with his sharp stone and cut slabs of muscle away. The baboon made quick work, familiar with the task. He had been coming to large kills and taking a share ever since Mufasa woke up. That was a long time ago now. Rafiki packed the large pieces into a spare bag and passed it on to her father to take. The big male delicately took the handles into his mouth and carried it back for Pride Rock. He had eaten, there was no reason for him to stay any longer. Once he got home, another lion would set out to take his spot at the buffalo. Nala knew this, but couldn't stop the feeling of panic as she watched the large male leave. They needed big lions here, where the unknown danger was. Nala got to her paws, ready to tell Sarabi, but the Queen was busy eating.

Nala waited, shifting her weight nervously. Every so often, she would look over her shoulder into the grass.

"Going to eat?" A familiar voice asked. Nala looked back to see Benji coming to stop in front of her. The grey lioness's yellow eyes searched her briefly before turning back to regard the buffalo. "They're tearing into it like a pack of vultures." She snorted and watched as someone started to throw their weight around too much, resulting in a contest of growls ripping through the night.

Somewhere, in the depth of her instincts, Nala knew that the information she kept would change everything. She knew what had arrived tonight was a sort of catalyst, volatile and precious. She never worked up the courage or the luck to grab Sarabi alone. Nala left it for Scar to tell.

The hyena eventually came. The hyena pups told her that there was no trace of Scar. Just crows. They ate like bottomless beasts, fast and savage, but they filled quicker than a lion, and left well over half the bull untouched. Shenzi, their matriarch, left the remains to the lions. She was confident in the coming gnu, that Scar would provide more hunts like this. Her faith in the King was unwavering, stronger than what she held for her kin.

The lions saw this, filing it away for another time.

* * *

_The Queen Regent, by a River Bed:_

Sarabi drank from the water's edge. Flies swarmed around her eyes, causing her to snap them shut and go blind. Stretching her other senses out, Sarabi listened for ripples in the water, ready to dart away if anyone tried something funny. Behind her, one of her last remaining cubs lay, chewing on a wounded duck she had managed to kill.

"How is Berta coming along?" Her daughter asked, sounding muffled due to the feathers filling her mouth. Straightening with a creak of old bones, Sarabi sighed and walked back to Diku.

"She is progressing well. We've just started to cover large game, tactics and that. We'll have to organise a group lesson soon, once the gnu come in earnest, so they can learn how to work in formation. That's always the hardest part."

"Really? Feels like the hardest part is getting them to be bloody quiet enough. I tell her, over and over, anyone can hunt unsuspecting prey, but a true hunter can catch even _suspecting_ creatures. I don't think she cares about that. I might as well be talking to a tree." Sarabi chuckled at the suffering of her daughter.

"No. The young never listen close enough. But it's always been that way. They will learn in their own time. I remember you as a young lioness. You never listened. Disappearing off to ancestors know where and antagonising your siblings all the time."

Diku's eyes saddened at the memories of her brothers and sisters. She used to clash with them endlessly until, well, until they started getting murdered left right and centre. Sarabi felt a flash of regret for bringing the memories up, before brutally pushing it aside. It served no one to hide from the past.

"Now, what was it you wanted to talk about?" Sarabi asked gently, flopping down beside Diku. Her mother's intuition had been flaring ever since the huntress had suggested a stroll down to the river. It served no one to hide from the present either. Sarabi vaguely pondered if she had been spending too much time around Rafiki lately. Diku's yellow eyes looked over the half decapitated duck guiltily. She looked young then. Looked her age for once. Just a cub when she fell pregnant. Just a cub when Sarabi bundled her across the border. Trying to save her last living daughter from the web of danger Diku had tangled herself in. As much as Diku would be horrified to hear it, she took after her father too much. No forethought, zero fear, no sense of shame or repercussion, unreasonable to the highest degree. So this expression of guilt did not sit well with Sarabi.

Diku perked up, dread washing away from her eyes as she spotted something behind Sarabi. A distraction, an escape. Sarabi dug her claws into the sand. They were having this discussion. Not even a raging bull elephant would move her from this spot.

"King Scar!" Diku called happily.

_Shit._

Sarabi turned slowly to see for herself. And sure enough, the dark king in the flesh was strolling up the river bank towards them. Sarabi carefully swallowed her rage at the sight of him. She loathed it when he went missing for nights on end, only to show up like nothing was out of order. Complacent kings were the bane of her existence, and considering her track record of assassinating kings she didn't get along with, Scar ought to be a bit more careful.

"Scar," she called out, a bite to her voice. "I'm glad your majesty saw fit to return. How long will we be graced with your presence?" Scar's green eyes rolled as he scoffed.

"Bitterness doesn't look good on you Sarabi."

"What looks good and what needs to be worn are two completely different matters, Scar."

"I think I might go," Diku muttered. At the same time as Sarabi snapped at her to stay, Scar gave her permission to leave.

"I'll tell my daughter what to do, Scar."

"I'll order my subjects how I like, Sarabi." He drew to a stop in front of the lionesses, glare passing to Diku. "Now go." Diku ducked her head and ran off, leaving her duck behind. Sarabi opened her mouth to say the first insulting thing that came to mind, when Scar cut her off.

"As much as I would like to address this open hostility, we're going to need to put it to the side for a moment. A matter of importance to the realm has come up, I've spend the last few days verifying and disproving as much as I can, but it can't be avoided. It seems I have sired cubs."

Sarabi's jaw, which had only just shut, fell back open.

"You? A father?" Sarabi's mind instantly flicked back to Maasi and the cub the dark lioness possibly carried. Sarabi gasped and smiled across at Scar, excited for him. "Has Maasi retur-" all brightness disappeared at the severity of the king's reaction to her name. His ears flattened and face scrunched into a viper like expression. A thunderous growl whipped at Sarabi, making her recoil just as the name left her lips.

"Why on earth you jumped to that _rouge_ is beyond me, why..." here Scar quietened, burning green eyes locking on hers as he started to scowl. His natural curiosity battling to override the current emotions. "Why did you jump to that particular one?"

Sarabi look a large breath, realised it was now or never, closed her eyes to gathered courage, then committed to it.

"She talked to me just before she left, about the possibility of..." Sarabi winced, "she suspected that she was with child. Early days. Just suspicion. Nothing more." Those hastily added reassurances did nothing. In fact, they might have made things worse.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He growled threateningly. Sarabi felt a cold sweat break out, but she let nothing crack through her expression. Scar would pounce on it like a helpless lamb.

"Cubs, especially first cubs, can be terrifying for a lioness. I assumed she left for somewhere familiar, maybe the lands of her own cubhood, or to roam again. I thought, maybe she needed to be alone? Rouge's find comfort in their isolation. To face this with privacy. I waited for her to return, and when she never did, it was too late to tell you of something that was not even fact. You were an angry mess and I didn't know how-"

"I've heard enough." Scar growled, sighed, then turned around to pace in circles. "Let's try this again," he snapped, obviously not over it despite how much he tried to pretend he was. "I have fathered cubs."

This time, Sarabi picked up on the reason why this was a matter of importance to the realm.

"Cubs. As in, multiple? How many lionesses did you take as mates?"

"There is only one lioness. There is only one litter. There are three cubs."

_Shit._

"She wants to be taken into the pride. Along with her and the cubs, she brought two other lionesses. I've been travelling with them and they are capable hunters. If we accept them, it will solve our hunter shortage, and the pride will be able to put back the weight we've been losing slowly since the mentors got appointed."

Sarabi cursed. Of all the times Scar started acting like a responsible ruler, it had to be now? Mufasa was going to throw a fit when she told him.

"These are not your children. Royal blood only produces one."

"You think I don't realise that Sarabi? Why do you think I've spent five days following this up before I told anyone? But their mine. I can see it. I know it. I presented them to Rafiki, and he felt it too."

_Shit._


	12. Here These Words And Have Faith

Here These Words And Have Faith

An Orphan, Hidden in The Migration:

The smell of old blood was faint in the air. The smell of fresh blood, on the other hand, was thick. The soldiers bobbed nervously as they jogged closer but were forged hard enough that they never broke rank. The sulphur of the watery pits burned his snout, covering the scent of all others.

The herd made their way during dawn, while the air was still chilled and the ground soft with dew. Their breaths mingled as the column moved through rocky lands, the satisfying sound of them all running in unison, hooves churning the ground and snorts of anticipation pulsing through the pack like a heartbeat.

He could hear his own heartbeat, pumping away steady and strong. Eyes darted up to track the two ravens in the sky, watching them as they softly glided along. Today was the day, soon they would be meeting this so called Horned Queen who spoke of many interesting things that were to come.

Normally only the core group would have gone, their leaders, but after one of the lady's raven messengers mentioned her allies... well, they were making a display of strength. Even he, not even a year old, had been asked to join.

It was best, when one mentioned lions, to take no chances.

A hundred gnu were here this morning, a number which felt like a lot, but now, separated from the mega herd and out here in this strange rocky place, a hundred gnu felt like ten. They drew closer, so near that not even the sulphur could hide the smells. The homely stink of many animals made him quicken and push tighter amongst the larger males. He looked around trying to get a sense of this bizarre place, the whites of his eyes flashing as he did so.

The leaders came to a stop, making the column push tightly and squash. A movement above caught his eye, and he looked to see the two ravens spin and dive out of the sky. Hushed conversation passed between their leaders before they set off again, this time in the striding, intimidating walk only alpha bulls could do. They moved off and the herd relaxed and loosened, a battle formation firming up among their numbers during the small journey across the stretch of swamplands that lay around the base of a dark, jagged, mountain-esque... thing.

The entrance into the cave system looked like a gaping crocodile mouth. A hissing filled the air, making the herd freeze. The sound was coming from the caves, stretching on for half a minute before falling quiet once more. He couldn't help but fear this place, his legs trembling whenever someone jerked fast enough for his prey instincts to scream. It was dark as they gathered and formed in the shadow of the rocky beast, keen and ready for an attack.

The rest of the world was awash in a warm sunrise, glowing bright, but here it still felt like a moon less night.

No wonder they called it the Shadow Lands.

None of them saw the monkey bouncing out of the cave, but they could all clearly hear his pattering footsteps. The soft sound was a strange one, it was not often they hear the footfalls of a soft footed creature.

"Woah! Did you bring the whole migration? This is meant to be a _secret _meeting, you know?" One of the gnu by the entrance sneezed, nearly knocking himself off his own feet, accidently making dust fly into the monkey's face. Some of the herd chuckled, the rest frowned. With the mega herd packed so tightly sickness was spreading fast, all this rain and dampness doing nothing to help.

"The lady told us to bring our people, so we did," an alpha told the monkey over the sick gnu's hasty apologises.

"Ergh, it's alright. You won't all fit inside, so maybe just, say, the main guys follow me in please." The alpha gnu stiffly nodded his head in answer before heading on in, nearly walking over the monkey in the process. They were not praised for their eyesight, and these dark conditions weren't much of a help, especially when some creature so small insisted on squatting amongst the rocks like that.

He counted as the five main alpha's peeled away from the herd and went on inside. Three of their strongest members went along as guards and two elders strolled along after them. One of the old bulls, Max, lifted his head and scanned the herd. Not able to find who he was looking for, he took a deep breath and softly called out a name.

"Chester!" Wait, that was _his _name. Shocked into action, the young gnu kick into a trot. He was still quite terrified, but that had been overruled with how flattered and happy he was to be invited along. _Like I'm part of the alpha group!_ He giggled on the inside.

"Count them, and memorise every species you see," Max whispered as he caught up. If the common gnu had poor eyesight, then these two elders had no chance. Often he was helping the half-blind, half-deaf bulls in their duties, of far more use as an aid to them then he was as a warrior, being so young.

In another life, he would still be hugging his mother's side, but that was not to be. He had matured fast after her death, a trait the elders appreciated.

Following behind the alphas, it was much easier to forget his fears. These were some of the strongest and bravest beast he knew, it would probably take ten lions _each_ to bring them down.

With that smug thought in mind, Chester giddily kept pace with the elders, eyes going wide as the tunnel opened out into a cavern aglow in shades of green and red. He wasn't sure where lions lived, in fact he wasn't sure what lions even looked like, but this felt like the sort of place you would find one.

He wasn't sure what to think when he saw the Horned Queen. He had been told she was an antelope like them, but he had assumed she was one of the bigger species, with how much respect she demanded and how many beasts served her, this however... she looked like a newborn fawn even in old age, the most striking thing about her was the purple tear drop on her face, like some beast had rubbed the glossy blue colour of her nose up her face, trailing off into a stripe at her forehead.

She didn't even have horns. He knew that in other species where females didn't grow horns a doe would still considered herself a horned beast, just, to call yourself Queen of Horns, you think you would at least _have_ horns.

He watched as the Alpha's went and inclined their heads to her, grand white beards fluttering along the ground and their heavy horns gleaming in the cave light.

Queen of all things _with_ horns.

Working to memorise her face, he knew it was useless, anyone could pick her out of a crowd wether they had met her or not. She glowed with the sort of confidence and poise only an alpha had. Glancing around, he started to count. Five monkeys had climbed up amongst the rocks, nine ravens rustled around in the roof, small clusters of four or three other bird species, non-descript and grey, up there with them. Around twenty of the Queen's own species, slender and long but so _tiny_, were lying around chewing their cud or grooming each other's golden fur. One stood up and he could see that their underbellies were a crisp white, and their heads only came to the middle of a gnu's chest. When that antelope passed close by him, he noticed they had quite a few white details on their face, running along their top lip, tracing around their black eyes and adoring the inside of their freakishly big ears which flapped like a butterfly half the creatures size was perched on top of that dainty triangle head.

Eyes narrowed as he tried to pick more of the species details, black spots below the ears and a dark tuff for a tail. He didn't know what this species was called, but the elders would when he described them later on. The slender little creature paused on its way down the tunnel, sidestepping and now hugging the walls as it trotted.

Loud groans and yawns of conversation echoed down, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up. That was the sounds of a very big beast, low and deep.

One of them plodded around the corner, turning to nod at the antelope in greeting as they passed each other. Chester couldn't believe what he was seeing, this thing's _tooth_ dwarfed the antelope, and not only was there one of them, but two following him, and three following them, and one brought up the rear. Did he need to bother counting them? Surely even a blind mole rat could see these things. Chester shrunk into the elder's side as the giants trotted on by.

These had to be the strangest things he had ever seen, where these lions? It was hard to imagine such beasts chasing a gnu down, their legs were so short, but they were so scary!

Max's face turned and cocked left and right, regarding the seven walls of muscle cruising on by.

"Hippos," he muttered to his fellow elder, both of them sharing a knowing look.

This is what hippos looked like underneath all that murky water? He had seen the beasts in passing, grey nostrils and tiny ear peeking out from the water. Never had it crossed his mind that they were so massive. All water animals were so thin and streamline, how weird that hippos were not. They inclined their heavy, fatty heads to the Queen as they past her ledge.

Another flock of birds swooped in, these ones small and blue. They banked around the queen and landed by her, hushed in discussion before zipping away and perching among the cavern's walls. Looking around, he noticed that a lot of heads kept turning their way. Had they been warned that the gnu would be appearing tonight? Chester shuffled his feet and peeked around the large body of Max, searching all around at the glances shot their way. Most were curious, excited even, like they knew the gnu were the last piece of the puzzle needed.

They had not been expecting gangs of predators. That was what crossed his mind when a pack of hyena entered into the fray. They all knew that the Queen mixed with one or two prideless lions, but none of them had expected anything else. The hyena lolled and one jumped the rocks in order to whisper to the antelope, this was obviously another close ally. It made most shiver to see those fangs flash close to the small antelope's neck, but nothing happened besides two stiff nods and a curt order.

After that they flooded in, six zebra and four cheetah, five buffalo who carried on their backs two pythons. More birds swopped in, even a great eagle whose wingspan nearly scrapped either side of the tunnel, sending the rodents and rabbits dashing for cover under the larger animals. He hadn't even noticed they were there, milling around in the crowd, until they all jumped and scatter as one.

More hyena's came in, these ones giggling and packing tight to one another, exchanging rapid snarls with the earlier group. Two pups loped along with these adults, their innocent eyes shining with generations of hunting instinct.

The hyena were still fooling around in the tunnel when a troupe of warthogs rounded the corner. They squealed and made a massive fuss, japing their horns in the hyena's direction when the predators didn't scatter. A whole lot of baying and screaming went on as they played poker with each other, it was genuinely the loudest thing Chester had ever heard in his life. It felt like it would never end, but by some miracle they all paused and quietly folded away into the crowd as if there had been a cue.

Ten seconds later, it became clear why they had scuttled from the tunnel, fight forgotten. Two beasts, furry but sleek, came padding through the dark.

Without a doubt, these were the lions. Only a pair of them, wondering in shoulder to shoulder. He was fooled for a minute into thinking them rather small, there was only two of them, the tiniest group so far, and they were not giants like the hippo or being aggressive like the warthogs. In fact, he could hardly hear their footsteps. They were mouse like compared to the horrible racket of before and the great boulders of the cave.

That thought soon changed when one looked up and locked eyes with him, burning a molten silver which made his guts roll and blood stop, his muscles turning cold and weak.

No one had looked at him, he stood right by the cave's mouth, and no one had looked up and seen him. He was too good at blending in, as all young beasts were. It was an instinct.

But this beast looked him up and down. He knew that Chester was cataloguing him, analysing and counting, memorising the numbers for later.

He expected at some point for the lion to break the gaze, but he never did. Eyes still bore into his own as they drew side by side, forcing Chester to look up as the predator's bigger size became apparent.

As the lions drifted across the cavern, his senses returned. Ancestors, he hoped that smell of sweat and fear wasn't coming from him. Chest turned to look at the elders. Max was panting like he had just run the entire migration in a day, and the other elder was quivering like a leaf.

These were the wisest, oldest beast the herd had to offer, and they became shivering wrecks when confronted with two well behaved lions.

That told him something, something Chester promptly wished he had never learned. He understood now why the gnu considered themselves blessed to die by a lion's jaws. It was almost like gods in the flesh and come to reap the wondering souls.

And they were going to over throw a whole pride of these things? Kill the _King_ of them?

He looked to the seven hippos, but even they had huddled and quietened upon the lion's arrival. In fact, the whole crowded cavern had gone silent. Chester's gaze drifted over to the alpha gnus, but they all had unreadable expressions.

With the noise gone and everyone afraid to speak, the Queen rose to her feet and announced the meeting underway. Her stern and powerful voice amplified by the cavern walls.

"Welcome all to this important event tonight. It is great to see you all here, gathered in peace," someone snorted close by, but it was too quiet for anyone else to hear.

"We are all here because we believe in the same cause and are ready to fight side by side, in the same war. So when you look around the cavern tonight, remember that these are your comrades. Everyone one of you brings a different strength and wisdom to our cause, from the smallest members to the largest." Here the queen paused to lick her lips and draw in a breath.

"Usually I stagger meetings, only three of so groups arriving any particular night. This was to protect identities as well as to prevent drawing attention to this place, large gatherings would be far too suspicious. This is why many of you will be seeing our group's full extent for the first time tonight, and becoming aware of the types of animals who you now have to consider friends, not foe. Representatives and leaders of each loyal fraction have arrived here tonight..." here her voice dipped, and she took another breath. For such a little lady, she was surely managing a large voice. Her head turned either way, her face showing the briefest glimpse of emotion. She had been expecting outcries by this point, perhaps some loud animal to cut her off with questions. Chester could see her surprise at had how well the crowd was listening to her.

He could feel it in the air, they were eager for her to announce what they anticipated for her to announced. It was no mystery why she would gather them all tonight.

"As of now, I can confidently say that we number well above a thousand loyal animals." The Queen lifted her head proudly and smiled when a cheer went up. "And I am pleased to say, prepare for battle." The cheer grew into a feral roar of animals, squeals and bellows along with the stamping of a hundred feet. It carried on forever as animals turned to their friends to shout. Just as it seemed nothing would stop the noise, the two lions roared, making his bones shake and back snap straight. Whether they meant to silence the congregation or were just shouting in excitement alongside everyone, nothing changed the fact that there was never a sound quite like it. Uneasy silence soon returned as the echo of the roar bounced endlessly around the cavern. The Queen shouted to gather eyes back on her, than continued on.

"Some of us are here to fight because they want fairness to return to our lands," her eyes flickered over her own kind, "others are here in order to finally see prosperity come to their kind," the birds tweeted amongst each other softly and the cheetahs nodded between each other. "Some are here for revenge, and some for faith."

Chester knew who the revenge jab was referring to. Once again he looked over at the alphas, but their faces were still carefully neutral. He was only a wobbly calf when the Gnu Lord and his court were killed, but he grew up all his short life hearing about it. Slaughtered: guards, medicine-women, wife, unborn calf, everything. With no rulers or court, disputes went unresolved, river crossings were poorly planned, ordinary events became deadly when the masses were confused, and coordination of the mega herds was non-existent.

Gnu were not much of a loyal or brave beasts, they did not dwell on much. Instead they moved endlessly, leaving everything behind. Most gnu did not care much for revenge; they only followed the rains. The alpha's considered them pitiful, how quickly they forgot the crime that had been committed against their kind. King Scar and his pride needed to pay.

Their group was made of a different kind, a kind who fancied themselves a better breed of gnu. Strong and fearless, ready to avenge their Lord. Young bulls who desired the action of revolution. The new guard. They were a guard with no king to protect. But no matter, today they would train and wait, as they did yesterday and the day before, and as they would do tomorrow and the next day. Soon a Gnu King will be reborn, the striking coat appearing in some mother's newborn calf. Maybe not in this year's calves, maybe not next years, maybe not for ten whole generation will he be reborn, but as long as the gnu still walk the earth, he will come again one day, and when that day comes they will be ready to serve him.

That was what the alpha's said. And he was all too ready to believe in it. His mother died in a river crossing, not from crocodiles or drowning, but from a thousand paniced animals trying to climb a sheer muddy slope. Her body had shielded him, all her strength going into remaining on her knees and not flopping down to crush him. Gnu screamed and kicked out, some balked and stopped, but the hundreds pushing up away from the crocodiles. Fear forced them to trample her. It was hours before they subsided. Night had fallen and the river slashed with happy crocodiles. His mother had been dead for awhile, but he still remained huddled and pressed against her. Both caked in filthy mud and blood. It wasn't until morning, when her body was so chilly he was shivering, that he found the strength to stand and gingerly dig his way up the slope. It had been carved a new face by the migration, one nearly impossible to climb, but he knew there was no other way. There were other bodies, little calves like him, and older beasts as well, that had been squashed and covered in mud so badly that only a leg or a side was visible.

If a royal court kept horrors like that from happening, then he would proudly serve in this so called guard.

The Queen's voice buzzed in his ears, snapping Chester out of his memories.

"They are stretched thin and the False King's grip on power has all the strength of a babe. As you are aware, the pride is being driven to hunger by the late migration. We have the plentiful rain elsewhere to thank for that. If seems even the ancestors are on our side." A murmur of agreement rippled throughout the crowd and the alpha gnu nodded their heads in acknowledgment. Before the Queen could continue on, one of the alpha's stepped forward, his strong voice easily gaining the attention of the congregation.

"You talk much of taking the pride down, but what after? Us gnu would like it to be known that we would not object to reinstating Mufasa, he was a strong and fair ruler, and the Gnu lived well under his reign." Creatures chattered, some thoughtfully and others with deep frowns upon their faces. It was not the Queen who responded, but one of the hippos.

"Gnu, I hope you are not letting yourself be blinded by guilt. We all know how your kind killed the heir and crippled Mufasa, but there was nothing to be done for that. What we are doing here is for something more. A legacy for countless generation. A new era, where we rule ourselves, not one where lions lord mightily over us all. It does not matter to me whether they are a good or a bad king, I fight for no king at all." He stopped with a proud puff and looked to the Queen, who was regarding him and the gnu with tentative blankness. "I want a life were hippos tell hippos what to do, and lions tell lions what to do, and not a single bit more or less," he finished with a stubborn growl.

Half the congregation were excited by his words, chatting and loudly agreeing.

"Trust me when I tell you all, the gnu no longer feel a debt to the lions for that stampede. Hyena chased the herd down that gorge, but their kind was never punished for their part. I hear some have even been taken into the confidence of King Scar. Yet we paid with the deaths with our entire royal court. It is a miscarriage of justice, the predators looking out for one another yet again and treating us prey like dirt!" The Queen's attention settled on the gnu, eyes honed on the speaker, body language shifting into a creature more cunning and careful. The hyena who grouped in the shadows yipped amongst each other, their yellow eyes flashing over the gnu. One of the largest started to pace and prowl in the small room she had, her silver-black pups listening to the conversation with perched curiosity.

"Mufasa is weak and sick, as he will be until the end of his days and his queen is old with no more cubs to give. Soon they will die, and the power will be passed on to the False King and his decedents once more. Entrusting in the good lions will mean nothing, when they pass onto their own. They are more interesting in keeping power within their pride then ruling fairly."

Many animals turned to muttered amongst one another, filling the cavern once more with the quiet buzz of conversation. After the first question had been bravely asked by the gnu alpha, many more stood up with their own to ask.

"Why do you call Scar a false king? Is he a fake lion or a liar or somethin'?" The Queen's eyes lit up in the volcano's green light, it was like she knew victory was already hers.

"Excellent question," a smile bloomed over her face. "Let me say this while you are all gather here tonight. My oldest comrades already know the reason, but I plead those new to our cause listen carefully to these troublesome facts." Most adjusted themselves nervously where they lay, some, like the hippo, couldn't wipe the smirks off their faces.

"Scar has no claim to the throne. The rouge lions in our mist have as much right to the crown as he does."

Growls went up among some animals, even Max drew in a sharp breath at the Queen's world. A warthog who had nestled himself at the base of the Queen's rock leapt to his hooves.

She hummed at the outbursts, smirking. This had always been her trump card, Chester realised. They may all gather here to listen, but it would take something earth shattering for them to actually lash out. One didn't gamely go to war against the Lion King on nothing more than buzz and pride.

"When he was born, there was no festival. Those of you old enough, think back." The noise in the cavern roared as everyone realised as one, before they all quickly stopped, eager to hear what else she had to say. "He may be Queen Uru's oldest cub, but he was never accepted as her son in the eyes of the crown. No royal ceremony, no festival, no holy oils and dusts. This means he is only a lion, and not a royal lion with the right to inherit. We all know what a large difference that is. And mere days ago, Pride Rock accepted a particular lioness into their mist. Our spies have reported that the litter of cubs she brought with her have been claimed by Scar as his own." There were a few shocked screams at that, half the crowd was confused to what significance this information had outside of meaning there was now three heirs. To those who had been loyal to the crown... wait, did someone actually _faint?!_

"The ancestors never came before Pride Rock to recognise him as a royal, so why should we? He is a _false king_. I assure you all here tonight, with every bone in my body. There is no reason for us to be cursed for rising against him – rather, we seem to be favoured by the ancestors. This is not treason. It is only right!"

A raven, resting on the shoulder of a zebra, screamed out at her. "_When do we attack?!"_

He saw her lips moving, but he couldn't hear anything over the roar of the animals and his own pounding heart. Up above, in the rafters of the cavern, the lone eagle met his gaze. Around its face, he could faintly see the swirl of rainbow feathers. It knew.

The Largest Eagle In Africa, Far Above the Pridelands:

This was getting very interesting. Pobell readjusted her wings as the wind buffered and threatened to blow her off course. When one was gliding this high up, it was frustrating to stalk her prey. Especially when he insisted on walking so damn slow! Pobell flapped her wings and climbed even higher. She was but a speck in the clouds, but just to be on the safe side, she wanted to be a near-invisible speck. Lions had good eyes, nowhere near eagles – but still good. If her prey was to ever chance a look up, she didn't want to be noticed. A whole week of shadowy stalking could be ruined if the lion noticed her.

Considered that her prey, argh, subject of interest, was moving at the rate of_ negative_ aerial nots, she had well over shot him during her little climbing manoeuvre. Banking to her right, she doubled back and started to circle him in a very vulture-esque manner. Locked back into auto-pilot, Pobell allowed her mind to wondered to that morning. Just before dawn they had assembled, some of them Pridelanders, many not Pridelanders, inside that stinky old cave. Blood thirsty for fairy tales, ignorantly rebellious, dancing on strings. It was such a small percentage, but in a kingdom as big as this, it was still a large enough group. Over a thousand that aging proxy leader had said. For weeks she has been watching the comings and goings of this land, trying to dig under the layers of secrets that covered this place.

Below her the King came to a sudden halt, one of the cubs that had been walking along behind him ran into his leg. They squealed and laughed, but Scar paid them no mind. His green eyes shot straight to the sky, locking onto the seemingly empty patch of sky, directly at her.

Quickly Pobell veered away, pumping her wings and directing herself to catch the wind drafts. Within seconds she was speeding away, already gone from where he had looked, half way across the sky.

She had spied all that she could spy. It was time to land. Hurdling across the sky, Pobell's eyes sought the grey outline of Pride Rock. Realigning herself she set off again, destined for the ancient tree that grew on its outskirts.

Minutes of supersonic speed passed in roaring quiet as she made a bee-line for Rafiki. She did not bother to slow her approach, instead keeping speed right to the last minute, weaving around large trunks and snapping her talons out to grab a passing branch. The sudden halt to her speed sent her wheeling forward, swinging around and underneath the branch she had the iron grip on before coming to a tidy stop hanging upside down. Flapping and cursing herself, Pobell managed to extract her talons from the deep grooves they had drawn and glide with semi-dignity down into the main part of the tree, where Rafiki drew the records and kept the melons. Pobell had just enough time to land on her feet and look cautiously around before Rafiki spoke unamused from his perch.

"You're late." Her feathers puffed up in annoyance at the old baboon's welcoming statement.

"I've been travelling for far and wide, Rafiki, give me a break. I broke speed records getting here in the time that I did." She turned to face where his voice had come from, surprised at how much older he looked. The big primates were so long lived, nearly rivalling the elephants, she had never expected to be faced with a grey haired Rafiki.

"I sensed your arrival weeks ago, yet you failed to come directly to me. It's nearly been a year since the ancestors put the call out. Since he was appointed King." He looked run down but the baboon still talked with fire.

"What part of broke speed records don't you underst – oh for the love of – why am I bothering to explain flying to a _monkey_. I was so far north that I reached the ocean." Pobell flapped up to a low lying branch, testing its strength.

"Ape." He corrected, just like she knew he would. "And I thought the ocean lay to the east?"

"It does. And if you go far enough north, it lays there too. Or maybe it's a second one. I crossed it in search of new lands. And I found one. This real flat desert place ruled by tribes of camels and packs of wolves. I was about to follow the ocean, it tracks North-West from there, when I got the call." Pobell shuffled around, switching to a better perch. This was more like it. Right here used to be her favourite spot as a chick, still puffed with down and curiously watching everything Rafiki did. It was weird to be back, standing in the same spot, now so much bigger. Rafiki swung his way down to the floor, grumbling the entire time.

"I'm getting way too old for this. Why can't any of you just take my place already?" The dark feathers that blanketed her ruffled into an angry crown.

"Don't get mad at me! Get mad at Rainbow-face. She's the next in line to take the Tree of Life over. But nooooo, she's a gnu and had to 'migrate while she still could'. Then she got caught in the middle of that shit storm massacre and is now in hiding presumed dead? Honestly Rafiki, I leave for eight years and this happens?" One large obsidian talon slammed down on the branch with finality, her full grown talons digging their first groves amongst the scars of a smaller bird.

"Don't get me started. But she is needed where she is, the two young gnu must be protected." Rafiki looked tired again, causing Pobell to tilt her head to the side and consider his heavy words.

"Is it that bad?"

"This new enemy will stop at nothing. If they had stayed she, or her benefactors, would have quickly organised a second attempt on their lives." Rafiki tisked and gathered his rattling stick up. "Dark times. The ancestors grow quiet. I hate to say this, but they are weakening. They pour all their power into Mufasa, trying to awaken his spiritual connection, but everything so far has been hazy and brief. And there is something else they have sacrificed power for, the unusual rains might be a part of it but..." Here the old ape looked at her conspiratorially from the corner of his eye. "Tell me, what do you make of the foretelling?"

"The true king one?" Rafiki nodded solemnly. "I think the truth couldn't have picked a better time. It seems a war of fractions is imminent. The best way to solve that is with a true king, or, what the truth brings in their wake."

"Unity." Rafiki muttered as he stroked his beard and settled on the floor. She nodded.

"A new era, new peace," she added. Rafiki drew his rattling stick across his lap in thought.

"But, usually the truth is the cause of the disintegration of the realm along with the rebirth," he argued with a confused frown.

"Sometimes. But not every time. What would that mean for us, that the true king is that twitchy antelope queen?" Rafiki almost laughed at her words. Almost.

"No. Considering I have yet to divine the true king's gender, they are still terribly young."

"Or have not been born." After she said that, Rafiki groaned.

"Please, I try not to think about that. Disintegration is days away and you talk of them being years, maybe decades from now."

"Alright, let's be optimistic than. They are just on the cusp of puberty, and in the next few months, we will be able to divine both gender and species from them. But we still won't know where they are or even who they are. What have you actual divined so far. Let's focus on what we have." Rafiki nodded and went back to stroking his beard, getting lost in his memories. Pobell spent the time preening her badly ruffled feathers.

"The weather was bad, stormy, when it came. They gave an image to me, burning the insides of my eyelids in the process." He paused, knowing she would find this bit of information interesting.

"Insides of the eyelids, interesting. That means it will be someone you think about a lot. Do you have suspects or... no? Too optimistic?"

"If I knew I would tell you, but what if it is a creature I do not know, but will meet and think about often later in life?" Rafiki then closed his eyes and went back to recalling the vision he was given. "The shape of their soul was lean and deadly... and covered in blood. It was all dark, especially where they stood, with their head bowed. There was animals around them, moving, each one a different species, moving and shifting in unison around them."

"Yes, all true kings appear within the circle of life." There had to be a reason why he bothered to describe it to her.

"This was different. They were all so noisy, squealing and laughing, chattering, though I couldn't make out works. And there was a lot of blood, as much on the animals as the truth seeker. And days later, when I divined into the spiritual nature deeper, I got a glimpse of a mountain peek surrounded by jungle, and with it, I strongly sensed warthog."

"So our lead suspect so far is a warthog?"

"No. I talked to Rainbow-face just before she fled with the twin daughters. She managed to divine the same mountain peak, but she sensed meerkat."

"Meerkat? They aren't very common in these lands, you're sure she was not mistaken. Perhaps a mongoose or... weasel maybe?"

"No. I have faith in her abilities. She distinctly remembers a lone meerkat."

"So they could be from some far southern lands. A foreigner. Warthog and meerkat. What does that mean? And to give you only one each is strange."

"We think the truth will be something between a warthog and a meerkat. Or at least, closely associated with both...you divined nothing similar?"

"No. I suspect because both your familiars are dead, yet mine lives, and is in power as the supreme ruler no less. I have much more power at my disposable." Rafiki and Rainbow-face had long outlived their familiars, King Mohatu and his daughter Queen Uru respectively.

She didn't know what it was like to lose your counterpart, she felt sorry for Rafiki, but the ape has lived more years without his royal familiar than with. He must have adjusted to the loss somehow. Stubbornly staying and serving as advisor, even stepping up as replacement when Mufasa's familiar failed to ever arrive, was probably how he coped. Rainbow-face didn't do as well. She all but ran away after Uru's death. Another idea occurred to Pobell as her mind drifted towards journeys and travelling.

"The distance might have had something to do with it as well, because the feelings cleared as I flew. I have a suspicion that King Taka has met with this true king. My divines connect quickly, yet I still learn little." Rafiki was clearly interested.

"Share what little you have."

Pobell mentally braced herself. It was never fun to magically recall these memories. They were so oppressive.

"Tonnes of animals, bearing down on me, like being buried alive, blocking the day out and crushing me into somewhere dark and... then, I jump, off the edge of the world. Both because I decided to, and because I was told to. I fly, and the sun is falling with me, making the sky red and bloody. The blood theme again. No one is there to catch me, but something does. Thorns."

"That's it?"

"That is it. Anything else I try to divine is dark and filled with endless running. If I try to divine through my connecting with Taka, I can feel him getting restless and sub-consciously trying to throw me out of his mindscape. But when I manage to catch him with his guard down, I feel unbelievable guilt and a past madness that terrifies him. It drives him to hide from everyone. To protect them."

"That is what Taka feels, when you call the soul signature of the true king to his mind? Guilt and... fear of madness?"

"Unbelievable guilt. It is always so instant and raw. So we know that he knows the true king. Recalls this individual vividly."

"Someone close to Taka, linked with guilt. Someone he wronged? Someone he hurt?"

"Rafiki, when I described the guilt as unbelievable, I meant it. I have trouble trying to process it when going through our connection. If it was someone he hurt, it would have been a high crime. Violent and wrong, or perhaps that person trusted him completed and he failed them?"

"Rape? Maybe our true king is the product. These new cubs, perhaps?"

"His reaction to the cubs and their mother has not been with guilt. It's not them."

Rafiki sighed and pulled out his tortoise shell. This discussion called for a little more magical assistance. If they were going to start throwing crazy ideas out there, they could at least do it over a mixture that told them if they were getting warmer or colder.

"We could ask him."

"Hey, um, Scar. Would you mind confessing all the details to your most closely guarded, darkest secret. You know. The one your most ashamed of in your whole entire life and have worked hard so no one ever, _ever_ finds out?"

"Alright. I get it."

Nala of the Pridelands, Outside a Warrior's Council

Something was going on. Something bad. All the warriors had been called into a secret meeting, so secret that the apprentices were not allowed to attend. Nala sat patiently on the spot Magnar had told her to stay at, her blue eyes darting along the horizon in search of an enemy. The other two warrior apprentices were there as well, Enma, the absolute idiot, was trying his luck at climbing the tree Nala sat under. Ulan was pacing. The faint start of a worn path was appearing around her poor tree as the grey cub circled again and again. Ulan had always been a quiet and content sort of character, so this anxiousness was worrying her. Something must be eating at him.

"Do you know something, Ulan?" If he didn't give it up, she would hound him until he did. Those yellow eyes avoided her, focusing on the ground under his paws.

"No," he mumbled. Nala stalked over to him, drawing alongside the male as he started on another circle.

"You look anxious." She observed. Above them she heard the snap of a large twig and a pained squawk from Enma as he nearly fell backwards out of the tree. Ulan didn't even blink. "You shouldn't keep information from your pride mates." Nala quoted Magnar, needling him with a glare.

"I'm not hiding anything!" Ulan blurted, coming to a stop and glaring at her. "I just... feel like something is going to happen, that's all."

"No shit, we all can! Even Enma." A stack of leaves fluttered to the ground as said cub nearly fell again. "We should spar," she chirped, back straightening and ears lifting up at the mention of one of her favourite past times. Ulan gave her a flat look.

"We should save our energy. Whatever this is, I feel like it is close." Ulan left her as he resumed pacing. Above them Enma gave up and draped himself with a huff over a branch.

"It can't be _that_ close." The tree bound male complained. Nala was just about to run off after Ulan and integrate him some more when the sound of the lions returning reached her ears. The warrior caste was only small, with three members compared to the hunters seven, but they were large and the grass parted before them with a loud rustle. Scar trotted up over the hillside first, followed by Magnar, Lea and finally Sergeo. Instantly Lea's eyes were snapping around, searching for her apprentice. Knowing him well, she obviously had a hunch he had managed to get stuck or eaten while she was gone.

"Get down!" She snarled, coming to stop directly below him. The cub threw a pitiful look over to his grandfather, which Magnar pointedly ignored. With a drawn out sigh the boy slowly reversed and tried painstakingly to inch his way back down. They all watched in silence as he finally slipped and fell the remaining meters, landing in an undignified heap.

"If you insist on climbing, then at least make sure you're a good climber first!" Lea growled at her charge, sniffing him for injuries before batting him over the head in the way only a cranky old lioness could. Enma groaned and rolled over, muttering something about injustice. "Just for that, you're going to be posted on cub watch." Once Lea had said it, Scar stepped up from where he stood by Magnar.

"No. We need a responsible apprentice - not him." The King's green eyes went to her, and Nala knew he was angling for her.

"We need responsible apprentices in the patrols too. We can't have both." Lea snapped, her ears pulling back, even the one that had been torn off right down to the base.

"They don't need to be responsible, that's what mentors are for, and the apprentice appointed for cub watch will be the only cub to be separated from their mentor tonight. I nominate Nala. End of discussion." Nala grimaced as her name came up, not happy about being mentioned in the growing fight between the warrior lioness and the King. "Magnar, instruct her on her duties tonight, and Lea... try not to die, no one else is stubborn enough to train that cub. I'm headed back to meet with Sarabi, start your patrols as soon as possible." They all gave Scar a stiff nod of understanding, stepping aside to let him walk past. Ulan went over to his mentor, asking what the meeting was all about. Nala followed after him, her eyes remaining on Scar as he walked away and disappeared into the leaves.

Turning away from watching the empty tree line, Nala realised that Lea had started the briefing already.

"- reason to believe it will happen sometime between tonight and the next night. We will be at the front of the battle, with the hunters fighting in groups of three. They will be there to provide support to us warriors and minimise loss as much as possible."

"Loss?" Ulan echoed, frowning more and more as Lea's briefing went on.

"All estimates so far are that we will be outnumbered." She curtly replied as professionally as Nala had ever seen her. Ulan opened his mouth to ask another question.

"By who? Who will be trying to attack us?" He was searching for something. Perhaps for answers to whatever worried him.

"Rouges of all species. It seems they have banded together and decided to try for a destabilisation of power." From Lea's tone is was obvious she didn't think much of their cause.

"All species..." Ulan once again echoed Lea. "Do these alliances happen often?" This time it was not Lea who answered him, but Serego. He was the strongest warrior they had. Magnar was bigger but not as younger. Lea was deadly but not as strong. Her bachelor uncle answerer Ulan with his customary quiet grumbles.

"It's uncommon, but not unheard of. Technically our own pride is a cross-species alliance, with the birds we employ and the recent addition of the hyena." Again, Ulan was poised with another question.

"What will the hyena do?" Lea raised an eyebrow. "During the attack?" The grey cub clarified.

"The attackers have a large force of hyena themselves, some of them rouges or lone hyena, a large part made up of the hyena that Scar exiled from the Pride Lands. The pride's hyena will be focusing on countering and keeping them separate from the main fight. It will be a mad house if the hyenas managed to get lose. We wouldn't be able to tell friend from foe and they could gain a real edge over us." Magnar nodded along as she talked.

"So hyena, antelope and gnu? Those are the main species?" He was definitely fishing for something, but it seemed Nala was the only one who could sense it. Lea grunted and looked either side of her to Magnar and Serego, a silent discussion passing between them.

"The hunters will take care of the lesser threats, but our job as warriors is to deal with the dangerous ones. So ignore the antelope and gnu largely, and focus on the few predators or large beasts within the rouge force." Lea coughed to clear her throat. "The main threats we've identified will be snakes, which hopefully our birds can take care of, a bachelor gang of buffalos – not massive but still grown bulls – and two lions."

"Lions? They wouldn't be connected to that rouge a few moons ago, would they?" Ulan asked.

"We suspect one of the lions was the rouge, yes." Lea confirmed. This seemed to be what Ulan had been looking for. Because he fell silent after that. A long minute filled with the rustle of leaves fell over the warriors. It was Enma who spoke next.

"How have you learned all this?" He looked to his grandfather and Lea for the answer. This time Magnar responded to him with carefully selected words.

"Scar has personally collected a lot of this, and..." the old male looked around to check that they weren't being listened in on. "His hyena, ah, I believe have been doing some double agent work within the rouge group."

"Can we trust this information. Can we trust the hyena?" All the adult warriors shifted uncomfortably. Lea cleared her throat again, old age making it hoarse no matter how much she coughed.

"I asked Scar that too. I'm not sure if I am pleased or nervous that he actually considered my question carefully. In the end he said they stood to gain little by switching allegiance." There was another look passed between Lea and Magnar, before her mentor dragged himself back to his feet.

"I'm going to start with Nala before we run out of time." Both Lea and Serego grunted in agreement, the lioness glancing to the sun to check the hour as Magnar made his way out of the circle.

"Yes, alright. Meet me in the western sector of Mildura Valley before dusk. The rest of you, come with me." The caste split silently, the ability to follow orders drilled into them until it became instinctual.

Ulan and Enma looked over to her, yellow and red eyes both soft with a farewell. This was the first truly dangerous attack any of them had faced. They grew up together, no matter their differences as cubs, and it was only natural they would look for one another as battle mates. But she had to go. To cub watch. It was her job as a warrior, alongside protecting the royalty, to guard the venerable. And when the venerable was royal cubs... it was doubly so her duty to protect them. Nala tried not to be bitter about being stripped of any use and holed away. On any other day she would have been secretly ecstatic to be rostered onto cub watch, towering over those kids and ordering them around made her feel so big and grown. But there were other concerns now. Magnar trotted home faster than normal, his dark fur, only a few shades lighter than the King's own, was slick in parts with sweat. It wasn't from exhaustion, she and him had run this path a hundred times over. It smelt like adrenaline. No matter how calm the three warriors had tried to appear, whatever they had discussed with Scar had left them on edge.

"Cub watch is going to be different this time." Magnar said suddenly, not bothering to look at her or slow down. "If it looks bad, you are under orders to stash the cubs somewhere hidden, then leave them and join the fight." Shock ran along her spine as she processed what she was hearing.

"Why did he insist on me if my job was to leave them unprotected anyway?" Magnar knew who she was referring to. They passed through a grove of trees, staying silent all the while. Senses searching for hidden enemies. It was only once they got back out on the plains that Magnar answered.

"You and a few others are going to be our hidden backup. If it's more than we can handle, you are our only hope frankly. Also, along with the cubs, you're going to be guarding Mufasa. If it comes to the point of abandonment, Mufasa will take over as guardian. Hide the cubs as far away as possible while still being within his sights. The old boy is crippled but that doesn't make him any less freakishly big, and with no feeling in half his body, he is virtually immune to pain. If anyone is perfectly suited for a fight to the death, it's Mufasa. He insisted on this plan, it is the only way him and Scar can see him being of any use. In the tunnels of Pride Rock, they will come for the cubs, but only one at a time because the caves are so small. Mufasa can handle one at a time, thanks to Sarabi's relentlessness he is far more rehabilitated than most of us realise."

"Alright." Nala swallowed and frowned at her paws, using their steady rhythm to ease her racing thoughts. "So I come out of the tunnels and do I look for you first? For orders?"

"No, don't waste time looking for me. Don't waste time asking for any orders; no one will have the time. You are going to be battling on your own advice alone. You can see why Scar didn't want Enma in this position. He's a brilliant soldier, but a solider needs orders." They were reaching another cluster of trees and fell into silence once more. The three ravens that cawed in their branches also went quiet as the lions passed underneath them. Pride Rock was close now; Nala could make out the pride members climbing its winding paths. "I hope you remember the games we played last moon. Are you still confident in getting around the tunnels on your own?"

"Yes. Ulan never did get the hang of fighting in the dark." Usually she would have chuckled at the cub's expense. Now didn't feel like the time.

"I wasn't to learn fighting in the dark. Well it kinda was. But mostly so you learnt the cave system." Magnar slowed the closer the got to the pride, allowing Nala to draw up next to him and peer up at his face.

"How long have you guys known about this?"

"Two moons. But Scar and Mufasa have known even longer. The past king had birds spying on it even before the, ah, stampede." Usually it was referred to as the accident, or the incident. It was the first time where the mention of it didn't automatically trigger memories of her best friend. There was urgent matters at hand right now.

"They've known about this enemy for so long, and they had so many eyes on them, but they let them grow enough to threaten us. Why didn't they deal with this sooner?" Nala asked with annoyance.

"When one has so many eyes on an enemy and knows so much, it is easy to become complacent about them and let them gather in the dark. Each day that you let pass only lets them unwittingly dig themselves into a deeper hole. They moved faster than Scar anticipated originally. Besides, I think he has been waiting all this time for them to make the first open move. To reveal all their cards. It is never a good look when a King attacks his subjects, no matter the rumours about their dealings. We don't want another massacre."

The rest of the journey was in silence. Nala hoped she had asked the right questions, because Magnar left for Mildura Valley straight after a brief word with Sarabi. Feeling more alone than ever, no matter how many pride members bustled around her, Nala felt incredibly frightened. She watched Magnar leave with the young male Kuu at his side.

Nala closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then got to work. She was on cub watch. Currently doing a terrible job, considering she was watching a total of zero cubs at the present moment.

Scurrying up the path to the main den, Nala peered into the shadows with relief upon finding the cubs in their bed.

"Nuka," Nala called to the one who was sitting up and alert. Oddly, he didn't respond to his own name. "Nuka!" She tried again, louder. All three twitched at the sound and glared at her, upset that their nap time had been disturbed. Nala frowned and padded over to inspect their tiny faces.

"What do you want?" Haru asked her - he was the biggest and bossiest of the cubs. Nuka inspected her with far less hostility while the little girl remained lying silent. Since they had arrived six days ago, the girl had yet to speak. Her mother called her shy. Sarabi had a theory that she was simple.

"I'm gonna be guarding you for the foreseeable future, so show some respect." Haru puffed up like an angry bird, snarling at her in that cute cub voice.

"She says you gotta show _us_ respect! We're important lions, I'm gonna be king and you can't talk to me like that! If Mother -" Nala decided to cut him off before the tirade got any worse.

"Once a crazy monkey cracks a melon over your head and marinates you with oils, you can go on and on about being King, until then, I would advise you didn't say that too loud. Now listen to your talented and beautiful superior and give me a report of what you've done today." Haru's two siblings were looking at him warily, gauging what he was going to do next.

"Why?" He pouted childishly. Nala snapped at him.

"Because I just love to know the mundane details of your life." Thankfully his brother took over, rattling off everything he remembered doing. Zira waking them up and bring food to them, a young warthog, than playing outside of Pride Rock by the watering hole with Mother's two lionesses. One lioness went away and caught a bird for them, she mangled its wings so it couldn't fly away, and then they played at hunting it before it eventually died. Then they ate it and came home to nap through the midday hours. Nala was jealous at how often these cubs were being fed. Their mother and her sidekicks were definitely very attentive. This was good. She could comfortably make them go the next forty eight hours without having to find them meat.

"No more sleeping. It's best you spend all your energy now and save the naps for later." Nala eyed them wearily. She could either sit here and stare at them, or spend her time wearing them down, ultimately making her job easier later tonight.

"Spar with me," she ordered, couching down and waiting for a pounce. Haru responded enthusiastically, throwing himself at her and bouncing back every time she swatted him down. The other two remained in their bed. Considering how diminutive she was compared to her brothers Nala expect the girl to be naturally wary of rough games, but her ears were perked with interest for the first time. She got to her feet, stumbled a bit off balance, then leapt at Nala, soft legs wrapping around Nala's left leg. Nala looked down at her in surprise as she play-bit her. Haru took that moment to launch at Nala's neck and catch her ear in his mouth. Shrugging him off and, far more gently, shaking the girl off her forearm, Nala retreated. All three chased her around the den, following her over the rocks and around the mantle where Scar was supposed to sleep. They then proceeded to play the game around the mantle rock, where she would run around it one way and then switch direction, trying to catch them from behind or get them as they mistakenly ran towards her. There was a lot of squealing. Haru jumped up onto the mantle and tried to jump down on her back, but she met him halfway and tackled him to the ground, wrapping her mouth gentling around his neck and laying on him.

"Let me up," he whined. Nala pressed more of her weight down on him.

"No. I've killed you. You have to play dead."

"You haven't killed me! I'm just buying my time until my battle mates get into position." Nala snorted and bent down to mouth his neck again, this time with a bit more pressure.

"There. You're dead." He huffed and whined, but eventually he played dead. Nala made him lay still longer than usual, just to annoy him, before letting the cub get up.

"Why didn't you help me?" Haru angrily asked his brother. Nuka was non-disturbed.

"I enjoyed seeing you die."

To Nala's surprise, the daughter giggled.

"Haru die." Her brother didn't yell at her like he did with every other lion, instead his voice was light and joking.

"Haru live again. Haru about to take vengeance on those who wronged me!" The egomaniac lion cub declared. As the cubs huddled and Haru whispered plans for a second attack, Nala's ears caught the sound of Rafiki's magic stick clacking into the cavern.

"That them there?" Asked someone who sounded nothing like Rafiki.

"Yes, you idiot." She recognised that voice. Nala turned around quickly once she realised Scar was coming towards her, eyes going wide when she saw the mysterious third creature that accompanied Scar and Rafiki. Perked on Scar's back like the parrots and song birds did, was a massive eagle, looking complete out of place. The giant bird of prey, even for an eagle, was obviously annoying Scar. Larger by a hundred times than any of the birds that served Pride Rock, with talons deadlier than Nala's own grasping tightly to the King's back. Her dark feathers matched Scar well.

"Get to it than. I don't have time to waste." Scar snapped at thin air. Nala panicked, not sure if he was talking to her. The confusion was answered when the eagle jumped off the King's back and fluttered to the ground. She had only extended her wings a quarter out, yet they had thrown the back of the cave into darkness for half a second.

"Alright your Royal Highness. Rafiki get the potion ready." The eagle proceeded to breeze past her without a glance and preen the three cubs. Each stayed stock still as she inspecting them, rotating her head back and forth around them. "Interesting..." the predator grumbled.

"Uhhhh," she started to say, causing both Rafiki and Scar to glance at her.

"The sooner they conduct whatever experiment they need, the sooner they can leave." Scar said, as both an explanation and an order to her. She nodded and remained quiet, even when the eagle's talons came down around the girl's neck and dragged her away from the rest. Her brother's got to their paws, agitated by this.

"Oi, what do you think you're..." Haru started to complain, before cutting himself off and shrinking away when the eagle trained her spooky eyes on him. She chirped what she assumed was a satisfied noise, to which Rafiki came over and took the cub from her.

"I only sense the blood in this one." Then, lower, so that the cubs couldn't hear. "Use the _individual test _this time, Rafiki."

"This is very strange." The baboon muttered as he put her down and picked up the two brother, taking them to where he had spread leaves, fruit and ... old bones? Nala's eyebrows raised, shooting Scar a look that he returned. Obviously he wasn't an enthusiastic party in this whole 'experiment'.

"Scar, blood." Rafiki demanded, making the King do a double take.

"You didn't need my blood last time."

"We're doing it properly now. With Pobell here this should be pretty much hundred percent accurate. Now stop sulking and come over here."

"_Pretty much be,"_ Scar sulked. The eagle reached over and bite him, making the King yelp and Nala giggle at the sound. She didn't think she had ever heard Scar make that sound. Her chuckles died when she saw the blood welling up under his fur, already thick enough to show through. Rafiki pressed what seemed to be the flesh of some fruit or a ball of paste into the blood. Once it had held there long enough, he took it and rubbed it over the chest of the boys and the girl, who the eagle had dragged over. Then he took some leaves, which had been grounded into a fine grit, and sprinkled them over the now wet parts of their coats. Almost instantly Nuka started to squirm in discomfort and the leaves attached to his fur smoked. Quickly Rafiki picked him up and scrubbed the leaves off him, wiping him down in an oily looking substance.

"Okay. So that one has, like, zero of your genetics." The eagle declared, preening the boy once Rafiki sat him down.

Nala glanced at Scar, wondering if she should be here for this. It seemed private and full of spooky magic only royals and wisefolks had the right to witness. After news that like, all thought of her must had flown out of Scar's mind, and Nala was happy to remain quiet and unnoticed.

"This was expected. But what dose zero genetics mean?"

"He isn't your son, or your brother, or your nephew or cousin or second cousin or child of your distant twice removed auntie, not even your ancestors have intersected."

"Oh."

_Oh?! Understatement of the century!_ Nala screamed on the inside. Those lionesses had been trying to pass this kid off as his, heir to Pride Rock. That was a crime punishable by death.

Haru's leaves started to smoke next, this time Rafiki dousing the cub's chest in sand in order for ... reading or something. He and the eagle proceeded to crouch over the cub and watch signs appear that only they could read.

"Alright, this one is related to you through his mother who is your, argh, father's niece."

There was a big long silence where no one dared to breath.

"No claim to the royal blood then. That's good." As one they all cringed at the calm tone eked out of Scar. "They have different mothers?" Scar settled on asking neutrally. The relief on the wise folk's faces was barely hidden.

"Evidently, otherwise that one would have shared the relation and not been burnt so quickly."

"Why hasn't this one started smoking yet?" Scar demanded of Rafiki. The eagle huffed at him.

"I told you I sensed this one had royal blood. Since I'm good at what I do, she most likely has royal blood. Distant blood, maybe, the land Zira comes from is the pride's favourite place to exile their kings. Or competing heirs. Which means her bloodline is harmonious with yours and isn't reacting." Then she added under her breath, _"like I fricken said the first time."_

Rafiki waved the eagle away and dusted sand onto the girl when she failed to start smoking within the next three minutes. She stayed perfectly still the whole time, remaining how Rafiki had positioned her on her back. Lying contenting, she truly look small, wide red eyes blinking at the faces around her. If they were born to different parents, than this explained a lot. She was younger than them, by leaps and bounds. Nala felt stupid for not realising it before.

"Alright, trace her." The eagle commanded Rafiki. Surprisingly the baboon did as he was told. More sand came out and the two crouched even closer this time to see.

'_Are you seeing what I'm seeing?'_

'_You've got to be kidding me.'_

"It's better than I hoped for!" The eagle declared to everyone in the cave. Rafiki laughed as he oiled the cub with something extra, before picking her up and lifting her high, a beaming smile of his face.

"It certainly is!"

The girl started to squirm, so Rafiki quickly placed her down at Scar's feet.

"Allow me to introduce this young lady. Decent of both the Pride Rock blood line on her father's side, directly, and the Mara River blood line through her maternal lineage– also directly."

There was a look shared between the three of them, questioning looks and answering looks, shocked and happy and smug (that was the eagle). This Mara River blood line talk must mean something to them. Now Nala _really_ felt like she shouldn't be there.

"How?" Scar's voice rasped when he asked the question. The shock was taking its toll.

"I'm not sure if we will ever truly know, but my guess is that the mother learnt of the plan to take a litter of cubs to you, and arranged for the child to be amongst them." Scar had yet to take his eyes off the cub.

"I didn't actually expect any of them to be mine. I -" The cub shifted and Scar nearly jumped out of his skin. "I just played along to see if she would reveal her hand. I thought she was working with the rebels, trying to assassinate my from the inside."

"That could still be possible."

"A mother wouldn't leave her cub in the hands of a lioness intent on wiping out its father. When Kings go their heirs go too, she wouldn't have been so stupid as to send her back to me, hidden in plain sight."

"Maybe?"

"No. She was a rouge, she was paranoid about these sorts of things."

"One would argue, that the lifestyle of a rouge is more dangerous than being under the protection of a powerful enemy. Especially for a cub so young, she should still be suckling. But the situation has not allowed for that. I'm thankful she seems to be doing okay on the meat. Thank the ancestors you royals develop so quick."

"You say that, but Sarabi told me she was a slow cub."

"_Physically,_ Scar. Ancestors help me, your brains grow at the same rate as every lion. For a mind, time is far more beneficial than being rushed to grow. Praise me, the minds are given the time they desperately need."

Rafiki was doing a lot of praising and calling to the ancestors, perhaps because of the world turning stroke of good fortune he and the King had just received. Scar looked much more anxious than both wise folk combined.

"We need to keep this between us, for now. I need Zira and her lionesses for the battle, if they learn that we know, they will flee. Once the battle is over, then I will deal with... this. Until then, none of this leaves this den. Understood." Green eyes glared out of their dark surrounds at her, boring in with realisation that she had been there the whole time.

"Not a word, I promise." Nala whispered to him fervently, more than a little afraid. He was looking unpredictable again, more dangerous than he had been in a long, long time.

"Nala. I need you to swear to it." She scrambled through her memories, wondering what a swear of secrecy sounded like. She hoped it had the same basic structure as the rest. Speaking slowly to make sure every word was true, Nala inserted the titles where they needed to be, hoping that they were right. Just like the apprentice one.

_I, Nala of Pride Rock, of allegiance to the True Royal Majesty of the Serengeti Pride Lands, pledge to you, King Taka of Pride Rock, to serve with loyalty and courage as Warrior Apprentice to Magnar the Smoke Lion, ancestors so help me._

"I, Nala of Pride Rock, of allegiance to the True Royal Majesty of the Serengeti Pride Lands, swear to you, King Taka of Pride Rock, to take this secret to my death or until you unbind me, ancestors so help me." Rafiki chuckled, Scar started at her unblinkingly. She prepared for something server to come from him, but his next words were light.

"You didn't need the death part, but it was a nice touch." Nala nearly cried.

"I didn't know what to do!"

"Whatever, you've sworn, so keep it." Then he turned, took two steps on his way out of the cave, before stopping dead on the spot.

"What do I do with her?" Scar asked Rafiki, coming back to stand beside his cub.

"The same as usual. Nothing has changed."

"Everything has changed, it's my actual child. That is my _real_ daughter, I can't just leave her here... can I?" Rafiki shrugged his shoulders and looked over at Nala. She felt obliged to speak up.

"I'm still on cub watch - unless that has changed also -I'll be sure to defend her with my life."

"Change of plans, again, Nala. If things go badly, you get this kid away to safety. Off the Pride Lands entirely if nowhere is safe anymore." The King glared at the boys who had by now scuttled behind Nala. "Make sure those two don't rat us out."

"I won't rat!" Once again it was loud Haru, "if you promise to take down Zira, I'll pledge to you as well. Swear it. She nearly killed my mother for speaking against her. I hate her!" All eyes in the cave swivelled to regard the dark cub, thoughtful and surprised in equal measures. Nala looked at the cub beside her in bewilderment. He had been playing along with the charade so well up until this moment, and suddenly he was spilling the secrete faster than gnu crossed rivers.

"And I don't care that I don't have to pretend no more. She is my sister, blood or not, our mothers told us to protect her, and I promised. I'm not gonna let anyone hurt her!"

Scar's green eyes almost glowed. "Her mother, you met her? Where is she?"

"I don't know. She was allowed to stay as long as she caused no trouble, but when she tried to protect mother that time... she disappear after that."

"What did she look like?" The two boys glanced between each other, ears twitching in a silent battle. With a nod of Nuka's head, Haru started to talk again.

"Like Mara does, I suppose. Dark colours with a black stripe. She even had a few spots like leopards do, near her belly."

"That's enough." Rafiki interrupted the cub, stroking his beard with narrowed eyes. "Whose this Mara lion you mentioned?" Haru almost laughed at that.

"Mara is that one... lying in front of the King." Rafiki's face glowed with a self-satisfied smile.

"Mara. That name was chosen to tip us off. A placeholder name until I could perform the ceremony and have the ancestors christen her. There is our proof that she intended for the cub to find its way back to us. Might as well call her Pride Rock, bloody hell." The eagle laughed and Scar grunted unhappily in response, both staring down at the cub who seemed to have... fallen asleep? Rafiki nudged her with the base of his stick, drawing a glare from the King's daughter. Nala's attention was drawn away from the cub when Scar started to walk over.

"Boy, how do you feel about becoming a Royal Guard." Her heart stopped at the words. The last time a Royal Guard was sworn Queen Uru was only a young heir. And a _foreign cub,_ was he sure about this?

The cub's eyes light up in a way Nala had never seen.

"You're not joking?! I'll swear the oath right now!" Scar nodded firmly, pleased with the reaction.

"Both of you can, if you want. Pledge to protect my daughter, and I'll make sure to see Zira trialled for her crimes." It was like he had said the magic words. To her surprise, Nuka leapt straight into a pledge, startling her with his knowledge of the ancient oaths.

"I, Covi of the Ghost Forest, plead to protect you as a guardian with my life, Mara of the, argh, Mara of Pride Rock, fearless and loyal, may the sun dry me up."

They both stood there like proud lions, raised by proud lionesses. She could see how Haru's mother found herself at odds with Zira. Scar's face was visibly surprised that the cub had ignored him completely and instead pledged directly to his daughter.

"I, Haru of the Bad Lands, plead to protect you as a guardian with my life, Mara of Pride Rock, with all my strength and loyalty, may the winds scattered my bones far from home."


	13. There They Are Standing In A Row

There They Are Standing In A Row

_Nala of the Pridelands, Looking Out Over the Pridelands:_

The pride had expected a night attack. War happened at night. It was now obvious this would be different. Their enemy was not lion, or even cat. They would not attack at night, when the lions were most alive. They would not make the mistake the gnu made, expecting some sort of safety or element of surprise by coming cloaked in darkness. This force had cats amongst them, able to advise them on abilities such as night vision and sleeping hours. Information other species did not know. If she was a lion with a force of prey at her back, she would advise them to attack right before midday, where the lands were hot and the enemy had spent a long night sleepless and shaky.

Nala's eyes stung, and yawns struck her every minute. She was sure Scar would have ordered them sleep, if he was not convinced the attackers would appear the second he let the pride's guard down.

At least he had ordered them to eat. Untouched kills had been stashed in a side den intended for eating after the battle, but Sarabi deemed them of better use now. Nala forced only the barest of mouthfuls down, her gut was too twisted for anything heavier. Leave the meat for those on the front lines, she had told herself. Where it would have more need.

As the others polished off the kills, Nala once again raced through her options. North, East, South or West? Where would she take the cubs if, ancestors forbid, the battle went wrong? North was popular lion country still, filled with ally prides, rouges that seemed to have stepped out of cub time legends, and coalitions of adolescent males that roamed in boyish play-groups. She tried to remember the stories, the bird talk, what news the King got delivered. Plenty of prey, more rain up North, bigger rivers, less dry plains, crowded at times, thousands of eyes, thousands of mouths word got around to. It was not the best place for fugitives.

West was... the Lakelands, a collapsed kingdom that had reverted to old, cruel ways. Then the recent blood bath they called the Rebellion. The new ruling pride was weak, their laws ignored, power was in the claws of the large militant gangs who roamed the Great Lake and her life giving rivers. So many refugees had passed through the Pridelands on their desperate escape. Even Queen Sarabi, as powerful a lioness she had been in the Lakelands, a princess of their old bloodline, a wife to a feared tyrant, had fled. The lands were emptier than they used to be, but, to go there was foolish. The cubs would be killed, or shaped into soldiers, and she would be taken as a blood bride for someone's pride.

South was looking most promising. She would have to find a path through the volcanic Shadowlands, but beyond that lay lands similar to her home. Steeper, rockier, quieter, held by peaceful prides who preferred to be left alone. Yes, it was the best. But it was obvious. They would catch up to her in the Shadowlands, no matter how well the sulphur masked her scent.

East was the worst of all. The Wastelands. Cracked ground and hard grey grass not even the gnu could eat. Wondering animals spoke of a green land on the other side, meant for only those strong enough to cross not only the Wastes but also the Endless Sands. In old stories an oasis paradise was mentioned, but time had swallowed it up. A red lake filled with bones and so much salt it sparkled was spoken of by the rare bird. Nala knew of a few lions who claimed the territory, operating on the edges where life was barely manageable, the decedents of exiled Pridelanders and rouges. Zira and her handmaidens hailed from one such pride. All she knew of their customs was that they were desperate. For better territory and better blood. East was unsurvivable. The cubs would die. Then she would die.

North it had to be. A place so busy a young lioness with her cubs would slip by unnoticed. Extreme caution would have to be exercised, but she could do it. And if she went North and North and even more North, following in the footsteps of the Gnu all the way up to the lands they stopped and turned around at, she would reach the lands of the girl's mother. Perhaps Mara's mother would be there, if not, than at least family willing to shelter her. The journey would be unmeasurable. At a cub's pace it would take a full year, two times slower than the masses of gnu managed.

Zazu landed at her paws, his bright blue body losing its gloss as he passed through her shadow.

"I know everyone's been saying this for a day and night straight, but they are coming." He informed her with wings held primly in place. How one could bother with propriety at a time like this was beyond her, but the older bird has seen more attacks than her. And watched all those attacks be repelled. Confidence radiated from the hornbill, and Nala tried her best to draw upon it.

"Okay. I hope you're right." All this waiting was killing her.

"Strange birds have been flying over, and we have scouted a horde making its way through the trees at a significant pace."

They had snuck closer by using the scrubland as cover. Just as Scar had predicted. A peculiar feeling grew within her at the idea of sitting and waiting for them to walk up, but Pride Rock was a large advantage. Hooves could not fight on the sheer rock like paws did. It was part of the reason why the gnu coup had failed so quickly. She had only been a cub then, hidden in the tunnels, but she remembers her mother and father's words afterwards, and sometimes Magnar spoke of it during training.

_An ambush. But how did they expect to ambush an opponent who expected them, and were waiting inside a fortress? How did they expect to have their pleas for mercy met when they struck on Simba's funeral? Maybe if Sarabi had not been there, a slim hope could have remained, but she wanted blood for this. And blood she received._

"Should I take them down into the tunnels now?" While she asked the question Zazu flapped up to perch on her shoulder.

"Hmmm. That would be good. Mufasa and I will be staying until the horde shows itself, we'll report on how it looks, there is no reason to stay." He then flew off.

"Alright." Nala said bravely to no one. She gathered her wits and went to fetch the cubs. They were sitting silently besides Zira, the lioness completely unaware that her ruse had been discovered and still playing the tentative mother role.

"We're heading down now," she informed the lioness whose eyes were caught in a constant battle between gleaming or glaring. She watched Nala uncannily. In this particular instance her eyes gleamed.

"I've asked around about you," she started, not bothering to get up from the ground and help Nala move her cubs along. "The one who will be responsible for my precious children. They say you're a promising young lioness, smart and talented. I hope they are right." Nala ducked her head as the intensity of the regal lioness's gaze threatened to sear a hole into Nala's skull.

"The tunnels are a labyrinth. I've been trained in them, and will be able to hide from hordes of enemies, no matter that there is only one of me." The Wastelander perked her ears in interest.

"How elaborate are these tunnels?" She asked with a voice tuned into a pleasant simper.

"They go deep, and spread out far. A lion could die down there if they wondered without a guide."

"I put my faith in you then, Nala. I'll join you to the entrance." Nala nodded, happy that Zira was cooperating. The cubs followed along at their mother's heels without a word, eyes darting between the older and younger lionesses when Zira couldn't see them. All four followed her around to a secluded side of the Rock, climbing up unused paths and squeezing between boulders when the way got tight.

They made it to the entrance, a crack between rocks that they would have to jump down into. Nala nosed the cubs to the edge, waiting for them to gathering the courage to leap down. The fall was not as far as it looked. Zira hummed behind her, eyes gleaming more than before. Nala knew the wily lionesses had something to say.

"I know a gifted hunter when I see one, Nala." Those first words shocked her, but not as much as what followed after. "You are wasted as a warrior, patrolling around and around in circles. The Pridelanders are stunting you." Nala nodded dumbly, not wanting to offend the older lioness. Grievances she had harboured as a much younger cub resurfacing at her words, so similar to what she once thought with secret hatred. She was happy with being a warrior now. But when a fearsome, almost admirable lioness such as Zira put it so frankly... doubts bubbled up in her mind. "In my pride we have hunters so talented we feast on lands thought barren by others. You could join us, if you want. Lionesses rule where I am from, and you would rise quickly." Zira's voice was more sweet and tender than she had ever been, proposition tailored in a way that would lure any innocent young lioness: talent to learn from, power there for the taking, _flattery_.

"That is a kind offer, but my place is here." Zira smiled softly, her words quieter now, hushed as if she was afraid they would be overheard.

"I learned other things about you when asking. Interesting things. You would have been married to the Lost Cub Simba. Was to be his Queen. But now you have been thrown to the side, abandoned and overlooked. You were raised to be a queen and now you face the dull life of a warrior. Meat heads all of them. My pride would worship someone like you, talented, well-raised. Let the old prides rule their roosts through vague claims to bygone ancestors, we're creating a new empire south of the Wastelands, one that grows with every season. We rival you Pridelanders in strength, and are feared by those in the lands that border ours. You could _rule_ a pride like ours, Nala. I have left them to be at Scar's side, with our cubs, but my pride continues. You could be a Queen of a new land. A Queen who doesn't need to answer to any king. Think about it."

And then she turned and left.

Nala stood in shock. No one had told her she was intended for Simba. But it made sense now, off handed comments lining up suddenly throughout her memories. Perhaps they assumed they had told her, and after his death it simply became too painful a topic to approach.

It made too much sense. So much that it horrified her.

Since birth her parents had pushed her to spend time with Simba, he was her best friend so it was no chore, but the pushing and pushing. Allowing Simba to do whatever he wished with her, being given a royal guard when she wasn't even a royal... leniency and freedoms, lessons on the ecosystem and hunting training that no one else got, training that – wait. The Queen was traditionally the head huntress of the pride.

The plans to make stupid Enma Scar's heir had poor Benji betrothed to him, and she _hated_ hunting, but there she was, apprenticed to the huntress Hoppi. She moaned about all the pressure she was getting, to shape up into a 'proper lioness'. Nala and Sade had been sceptical, but...

Nala scooped up Mara in her jaws, jumping down into the entrance and taking solitude in the new darkness. The cub was limp and calm in her jaws, and the two boys had yelped and followed quickly after her. They were all down here now, and she had a job to do. To hide them. Hide the heir. With the revelation of Scar's cub, the Enma plan was void and Benji would find all that pushing suddenly disappearing. Just like it did in the aftermath of Simba's death. There had been so much turmoil and sadness then, she had never noticed the removal of small things. Sarabi's attention, her mother's preening, the little hunting lessons and the lectures about responsibility and manners.

Did she ever want to be a hunter? Or was that just something she had been told as a little one, tutored and shaped into the perfect traditional lioness. Why had no one told her this? Obviously all the adults knew, if Zira could simply ask around. Why had – Simba – were they serious? But he was her best friend!

One of the cubs shifted and sneezed, snapping her spiralling thoughts back to the task at hand.

"Alright, we're going to head this way, follow me closely. Then we're going to wait for Mufasa to arrive -"

"The big one with the broken legs?"

"They're not broken, he can walk, sometimes. Their just... sore." They must have nodded, but Nala couldn't see them. "And sometimes I'll check your still there by saying role call, and then you have to say your name back at me. Role call."

"Haru," the loud one responded first, boisterous as always.

"Covi," the smarter one followed.

"_Mapa!"_ ... so the little girl understood speech. Too young to reliably follow instructions, or pronounce her name properly for that matter. But she seemed attentive enough. Was it really smart to let the tiny heir trail along after her in the dark? Probably not. Nala turned around and picked the princess up, surprised when the cub purred. Little cubs liked being held. That was probably why. It was far better than _not _liking being carried, that was for sure.

Nala carried the precious cub down further, to the parts of the tunnel that no longer resided inside Pride Rock, but underneath it. Her little sworn protectors padded beside her seriously, eyes wide with every turn they made that revealed more upon more of small passage ways and large burrowing off shoots.

"Will the big lion be able to fit down here?!" The boisterous one whispered in disbelief. Nala couldn't respond through the mouthful of royalty. It probably seemed to them like a never ending journey, but what they didn't know was that they had backtracked multiple times by now, setting up an unfollowable matrix of scent trails. Only an elephant or a snake would stand a chance at making sense of it all, and an elephant would never fit down here.

But hadn't Magnar spoken of snakes being amongst them? Nala resolved to set more false paths than originally intended. Eventually she had to stop before certain trails became noticeably fresher than the rest, and hurried along to the agreed meeting place. Once there, she flopped down into an alcove, where she could see anyone approaching long before they would notice her. The boys looked tired from the fast pace and endless looping.

"You've done well, boys. And Mara, thank you for being so lovely and quiet." The girl mewed at her from where she lay between Nala's arms.

"How long now?" their words were tipped with fear. Tight tunnels were not the most comforting of locations.

"As long as we need, until a pride mate comes down to get us. They will tell us the password, so we know that it's safe."

"What's the password?"

"The crane swims." All of them giggled, even the girl.

"That's silly. Cranes don't swim." Nala hushed them back down to a whisper.

"It's meant to be strange. Something that no one would ever say, or guess." She explained quietly.

"I could make a better password!" Haru claimed, little chest puffed out already. Nala's eyebrows rose.

"Oh really? Try then." For the next while the cubs entertained each other with password suggestions, each shoot down by Nala as predictable or forgettable. When Mufasa and Zazu finally found them, Mara was purring sleepily in her arms as Nala groomed her coat.

"Looks like you've got everything under control." Mufasa whispered from the passage way. Nala didn't pause in her grooming; only moving her eyes back down to Mara. Zazu had a teasing smirk upon his breaky face. "Now who said she would have them huddled in a corner and crying in fear of her?" Mufasa chuckled.

"Now Zazu," the old king chastised with the air of a lion doing the opposite of chastising.

"It would be so much nicer if you stopped pretending to be such a big nasty lion-eater. Obviously there is a sweet mother-to-be underneath all that, er, sharp exterior."

"_Pretending?"_ Nala echoed dangerously.

"One day you'll -" She decided to cut him off there.

"What news from the attack?" Zazu visibly hunched over at the reminder of what was unfolding above them. It was Mufasa who reported to her.

"The horde is as big as we feared, but the predators among them are scarce. Prey are easily rebuff, usually only an eighth of them need to fall before a retreat is called. The unknown factor is the few predators spread amongst them. We've never faced a combined force before. It will complicate things. But we are prepared for this."

Nala nodded solemnly as Mufasa lay down beside her, the cub's eyes going wide at the massive male.

"Hello," Mufasa greeted politely to the cub starting most blatantly. She wasn't sure, but it certainly sounded like Haru _squeaked._

_Queen Commander, Entering the Fray:_

Sarabi stood up beside Scar on the King's Edge, staring down into the approaching armada and counting the threats. The few lion were big males, blurry and battle scared. Lakelanders, she could smell in on them. Only fools allied with the Lake Gangs, confirming that this Queen of Horns and her associates the spies had been reporting on was as dull an idiot as Sarabi had long accused her of being.

Her stomach gurgled, the meat recently consumed sitting heavier than usual in her gut. It must be the adrenaline, upsetting her like this.

"Prey are easy to scare. We will make vicious examples of their front lines, where they can all see, it should send them scurrying." Scar's glowing green eyes swivelled to regard her.

"See that you do. But the dangerous ones will not falter. The lions, buffalo, even the hippo and cheetah. Careful that focusing on the killable ones does not expose you." He carried the conversation while still following the actions of the swelling horde below. Sarabi straightened her back, her next words curt and quick.

"I will send the spare males down first, big and frightening. Get a roar going. Fear will ruin them."

"Approved. Go."

She scuttled away immediately. The pride had already organised itself into their designated troops, and Sarabi bounded over to the trio of males who were neither warriors nor hunters.

"You will be charging first." Sarabi informed them, "you are to pick killable targets and dispatch quickly if not gruesomely. Avoid challenging opponents; they will be the responsibility for the warriors coming in after you. Any questions?" She directed that toward Hodari, who had a habit of picking orders apart at the seams. It came with the role as political ambassador she supposed.

"Are we to stay out there, killing, until they retreat?" He asked her, his orange eyes bright and inquisitive like his daughters, no matter that Nala and Berta's eyes were an entirely different colour.

"If they retreat, we will regather and decide if to follow. Only on a full surrender are you to stop fighting without pride permission." Hodari nodded to her answer, while another male cleared his throat in order to yet her attention.

"Okay. Go now?" The male, Kuu, asked eagerly, already dancing on the tips of his toes. Leave it to the youth to be excited for battle. The lion had joined their pride a full year ago, but he acted no more mature then he did then.

"When Scar roars, run down and initiate battle, roaring as loud as you can."

"Understood."

"Get in position." Sarabi then raced back across the courtyard and up the long ledge to where Scar remained watching. The eagle accompanied him now, talons clinging into the edge of the rock, her eyes scanning the horde and snapping off numbers.

"They are willing and waiting for the signal."

Scar nodded curtly, eyes never leaving the horde which had come to a stop directly below him. A dull roar of noise and cries floated up, insults and threats that the horde was screaming up at them getting drowned out by the gusty winds.

"I will wait until they start to climb the rock. Have the killings happen high, so that the horde has an unobstructed view." Sarabi inclined her head, ignoring the way her gut flipped and burned.

"Tell everyone you can, ten lions, nineteen buffalo, three hippos, twelve cheetah. No hyena as yet."

"Maybe the hyena are behind the Rock, looking for our hyena there?" She felt uneasy not knowing the location of the dangerous force. "Should we send the hyena down to engage?"

"Scout and check they are all there, before letting our hyena down from Pride Rock." The King ordered coolly.

Sarabi darted off again, ducking past Magnar on her way off the ledge.

"Ten lion-" she started,

"Bastards," Magnar swore

"-Nineteen buffalo, three hippos, twelve cheetah."

"Alright make it worse will ya." The old war lion grumbled. Sarabi offered him a strained smile of amusement.

She told the hunters troop and the charging trio, now ready in position. She didn't bother with the warriors. Magnar would tell them. She found Abdoel, her little wood dove, waiting where she had told him to.

"Fly over and check behind Pride Rock for enemy hyenas. Report straight back to me, I'll be with our hyena." The young bird bobbed his head and snapped up into the air, sticking close to the rock face to avoid the enemy ravens circling in the sky above them. Sarabi watched him go with worry, a shiver forcing its way down her legs. It was odd. She was not afraid. The shivers did not make sense. Her gut, cold and numb, dropped once more. Instead of going straight to the hyena, Sarabi diverted to the hunters.

"Is everyone feeling okay? How are your guts?"

"Heavy, noisy."

"Like it's full of acid."

"Shivering and cold."

Anyone would overlook it. Anyone but Sarabi, a veteran. Magnar rivalled her in battle count, and he had noticed something too. Why else would be break position and go directly to Scar?

First the hyena. She found them hovering around the mouth of the main den, giggling their war-laughs.

"Did anyone eat the kills?"

"No. Those were lion kills. We don't eat the lion's stuffs."

"How are your guts?"

They blinked in confusion.

"Rock hard as always, your majesty?"

"Good. If any of you start to feel unusually ill in the gut, get word to me or Scar at once."

It was then her wood dove came back, so fast his feathers whistled, emerald spots dancing with the mad flap of his wings.

"They are there, destroying the hyena's burrows. With them is five buffalo." The hyena drew to their full heights at the dove's words. Sarabi nodded gravely to the matriarch.

"When Scar roars, it is your signal to attack. Until that time, ready yourselves and get in position to strike." The big female smiled at her orders.

"He better be roaring soon. I can't hold my buddies back for too long, the sing of battle is already hot in the heart."

"Very soon. Use the tunnels to attack unexpected. There is an opening near your dens, is there not? That's the whole reason you set up there, to hide it. Correct?" The clan was starting to walk past Sarabi now, circling and waiting uneasily for their matriarch to follow.

"Correct, we know the tunnels. At least the part of the tunnels we are used to travelling. Will we hear the roar from down there?" The hyena grunted at Sarabi.

"Certainly. His roar will be followed by everyone in the pride, the rocks shiver at the sound. You will know." Once more the hyena grunted at her. Sarabi nodded to the matriarch and jogged off, leaving the hyena to giggle and scream as they raced for the closest tunnel entrance like a waterfall of silver and grey.

"Scar, some stomachs are getting bad feels." The dark look in Scar's green eyes made her tummy feel even worse.

"Yes, Magnar told me. He felt it too. Knows the feel. Poisons, he told me. He thinks we should attack now, and push to crush the attackers before the effect takes hold." Nothing in his tone of voice gave away what he thought of the new plan.

"Is it deadly?"

"Possible."

"Poisons, I have never heard of them." They shared a look, obviously Scar hadn't either.

"It's used in the Northern Lands apparently; they can do almost anything to those that eat them." It sounded dangerous. Unknown and uncommon. More dangerous than the horde outside for sure.

"Give the roar now."

"No. I will stick to the plan and wait for the first-"

"I can feel this poison in my gut, growing fast. Every minute it gets horribly worse, shivers and numbness. We only have a short time left before it takes hold. Now."

She expected him to argue more, but the King just nodded. Stepping up to the edge, he roared. It had begun. More quickly than she felt ready for. But there was no turning back.

His eagle screeched beside him, her voice perching and powerful. She took to the sky on massive dark wings, glorious feathers billowing in the midday Serengeti winds and lifting her high. At first her take off seemed aimless, simply done for the awe of it. But then she twirled and pumped her wings, deadly talons out stretched to catch a strange raven who had been diving down towards Scar at alarming speed. She dismembering that poor raven midflight, high enough above the horde that no one could reach her, low enough that every detail was visible. Blood streamed down on top of them almost instantly, followed by entrails and then the carcass now torn in two.

The horde roared, the pride roared, and the rock shivered under her sweating paws when she could no long hear her own roar.

From then on, her fight was to keep the pride organised. The warriors raced down after the trio, Sarabi at their heels. She assessed the situation before running back up and leading the hunters down. They had to leap over a dying zebra on their way down into the mayhem. The horde churned and halted, a lack of strategy resulting in ten percent of them taking on the lions while the rest were trapped behind, unable to reach the fight or too uncertain to interrupt.

When fear consumed, direct, simple orders was what remained.

Her lions took to the horde with ease, sticking to their pairs like commanded, picking the type of opponent allocated to them. Sarabi leapt on the back of a buffalo who had been facing away from her, fangs slicing into his spine as he tried to buck her off. His hooves lashed out and caught one of the cheetah who had been trying to sneak around and jump on Sarabi unawares. Magnar, who had been the original opponent of the buffalo, made use of the panic and ripped its throat wide open, claws going into its eyes when it continued to struggle. Once it crumbled to the ground, weak and dying, Sarabi and him shared a look before racing directly towards one of the enemy lions.

This lion was currently locked in battle with Hodari, who was big enough to rival Mufasa but a pacifist at heart. The Pridelander was currently being beaten bloody, no matter the odd successful grapple he managed. Magnar landed first, blindsiding the enemy with fangs to the side of his face, large arms wrapping around his neck and keeping him there. Sarabi look the opportunity to rip into his undefended flanks, getting knocked back every so often with the males wild thrashing. Once his sides were so bloody Sarabi deemed him wounded beyond danger, she order Hodari to pair with Magnar and raced on her way, seeking out another vulnerable target.

She dodged kicks and swipes, once even skittering away from the wild attack of a snake. She watched in fascination as the python darted after her, ignorant of the zebra trampling along near him until it was too late. The snake, nearly ripped in half by the stallion's hooves, used the last of its strength to bite down hard. The zebra screamed and jumped, confused as to what was attacking it, allowing for Sarabi to leap and slice at the exposed neck like Magnar had shown before. He tossed and threw her away, but the damage was done. In under a minute he will be bleed out. Sarabi turned and ran, aiding a pair of lionesses with a wilful antelope doe before turning and spotting the true prize.

Magnar and Hodari had moved on to confront a raging hippo, dancing around him and avoiding the skull crushing jaws. The Lakelands was filled with hippos, she had killed more than a few in her time. The trick was to circle and twirl them until exhaustion set in. Racing over, her paws faltered and nearly tripped her. The numbness was spreading. She couldn't afford one misstep with an angry hippo, but it seemed she would just have to pray and hope the poison stayed at bay a little longer.

Hodari was running in circles around the river monster, pulling its attention away for the perfect opportunity. Sarabi jumped close and sunk her jaws in hard, the tough skin breaking and blood bursting in her mouth. The hippo roared and screamed, spinning and flinging Sarabi wide. Magnar picked up on the trick and before long they had four deep gashes oozing blood. Hippos take forever to bleed dead, time Sarabi was starting to question if they had. She caste a look around the fight to assess how well they were doing. Naanda and Dwala had a pair of antelope in the throes of death close by, Serego and Lea were battling with another impressive buffalo, their apprentices at their heels and darting in to bite and swipe whenever a slim opportunity arose. She couldn't see Sarafina or Hono, most likely on the other side of the retreating horde. Scar was even there, prowling around a dead buffalo towards were a snorting gnu waited, pawing at the ground. Rafiki clung close to the king's side, snapping and whacking away every attempt made to attack the King from behind. Sarabi's breath rattled both from exhaustion and because her whole chest was now numb. Zareh and Kuu were headed Scar's way, a trial of dead antelope and gnu in their wake. About an eighth lay dead or wounded. The efficiency of the multi-layered plan allowing for the pride to slice through the ranks, but the horde remained, returning from the brief retreat lead by their lions and buffalo.

Then Sarabi's eyes tripped over the sight of a dead lioness. She didn't want to identify who it was, tearing her attention away and back to the hippo. That will be dealt with later.

The hippo was angry now, jerking and spinning so fast he nearly lost footing. Sarabi managed another attack, ripping his soft inner thigh to shreds. The bull's jaws briefly touched the tip of her tail as he spun and she darted away. Charging after her, she swerved and weaved, desperately trying to stay out of crushing range. He trampled a lost looking trio of antelope without batting an eyelid. Someone else must have gotten their claws into his flanks, because he left her to spin away, a saving grace.

A bloody scream filled the air along with wet cracks. Sarabi spun and turned, leaping blindly at the hippos head and landing upon the side of his fat neck, claws and fangs tearing into the thick skin uselessly. Someone had been caught, she could hear them gasping, and see the paws thrashing where they poked out of the hippo's mouth.

"Dad!" Some lion screamed from beside the hippo. It was background noise to Sarabi, her full attention on leaning over and digging her claws into the dumb things cloudy eyes, a soft point in the hide that she used to get her talons under the skin and tear long jagged lines across its check and down towards its jugular. Blood spurted out like a spring, and it screamed and chocked at the pain, dropping the lion it was chewing to the ground. With its jaws free, Sarabi leapt for her life and ran out of range.

Naanda was still screaming, racing to her father's side. It was no use, Magnar was dead. His body nearly cracked in half, skull caved in like an egg. Naanda heaved and threw up at the sight, and what came up was a strange colour of purple. Sarabi was in the middle of yelling at herself for not making everyone throw up sooner when Naanda charged at the hippo. Rage fuelled her, and inexperience had her attacking it head on like one did to the wounded buffalo. Sarabi roared and nearly tripped over in her haste to pull the lioness back. The enraged hippo was half blind, missing Naanda's charge and only realising she was there when she started to rip into the underside of his neck and chest. He gurgled and slammed his chin to his chest with an offended roar and teeth jarring smack, crushing Naanda along with her father.

But the suicide mission was worth it, the hippo was kneeling and chocking on his own blood, almost swimming in it actually. She had gotten her bloody vengeance. The ancestors will embrace her proudly.

Numbness pulsed through her, the shock of the gruesome death before her had drained the adrenaline, making way for the numbness to spread like fire. She felt the bile rise, and actively encouraged the sensation, heaving up mouthfuls of half-digested meat and the strange purple ooze. Sarabi tried to walk, but wobbled and collapsed like a foal. Hodari appeared at her side, breathing heavy and fast, eyes darting around alert. He was a good lion. The little warrior training given to him had ingrained the first rule of battle. _Mourn later._ Seeing the strange colours in the throw up, he too tried to regurgitate, but couldn't manage it with the chaos of the battle.

Sarabi struggled back to her feet and looked around again. This time it looked far less promising. Cornered, poison starting to create visible shakes and tremors. Lions were not endurance animals, they would not be able to last much longer without a break. Hope lay in the hyena now circling Pride Rock and approaching the bloody horde.

The closer the hyena came, the worse Sarabi realised their condition was. The clan was noticeably smaller, almost halved, and all were bleeding from one wound or another. The matriarch looked particularly gruesome, her snout mangled and ribs bright red with exposed flesh.

"Join the fray, focus on the strong ones. If we get rid of them the rest will flee." The matriarch fixed her with a strange look, just as Sarabi's hind legs collapsed once more. Struggling to get back up, Hodari was becoming wrecked with tremors too.

"You're losing." The hyena mother said in awe. Sarabi roared at her.

"No! The battle is on the turning point, we can-" she chocked on her own words as another raven dived down on Scar, whatever the bird held in its claws glinting purple in the sun.

"They're needling him with poison!" The hyena growled, body stiff with anger. Poison, there was that word again. The thing that was doing this, making her weak and sleepy.

"I didn't believe Scar when he told me... I thought it was impossible for Pride Rock to be conquered." This time Sarabi growled, low and frustrated.

"Not if you hyena join. You could still turn the battle."

"The hyena have kept our part of the deal, we've slaughtered our enemy down to the last one. Along with the battalion of buffalo with them. But this? Listen, neither of us are stupid. My few hyena are half dead, we will turn no tide. Just die. The day I die for nothing more but a lion's sake will be a dark day indeed. You lions will not win this, which makes the fight of no interest or benefit to us. You have lost our support, for now, Queen Sarabi." She couldn't believe what was coming out of the matriach's mouth, to turn away, at a time like this? Mufasa's unconditional exile of the species was now much more understandable.

"Scar will have your head for this!"

"Scar knows the conditions of my servitude. At a time like this, I've got better things to be doing that dying out here. Even if he does object, he's not exactly in a friggin position to argue right now." Sarabi looked up to see that Scar had collapsed into the torn ground, twitching like a dead insect. "Go, to where I told yous. Now!" The hyena mother bellowed at her dwindling clan, then took off for Pride Rock alone, bounding up the steep path like her torn open side was just a mosquito bite.

"We can win, we can win, we can win," Sarabi chanted to herself as she failed to arrange her legs. Hodari looked on the verge of a break down.

"What's happening?"

"Poison, forget about me. Hurry in and assist another Pridelander, keep killing. We just need to keep killing." Hodari nodded furiously before running over to where Zira and another lioness were circling a gnu, not even sparing a moment to question the order.

Sarabi was getting weaker the more she struggled. Throwing up had been too little too late. Giving up was unforgivable, but she did pause in her efforts to watch the battle. It was not bad. If the poison had not been a factor, they would have worn this horde down eventually. They still could if, if... if.

They needed to pause. Needed to take a step back to Pride Rock and assess. Once her bloody legs started working again, that was. She could feel a slight tingle of sensation returning to her toes. A small seed of hope blooming inside her.

Scar had gotten to his feet again, struggling up from the dusty floor. Creatures battled on around him, too occupied to notice. No one else had the luxury to stop and watch the King.

Only her eyes got to witness. Two lions had been coming towards him along with a buffalo cow. To finish him off, or take him away. Once they got within striking distance, Scar suddenly attacked like he had never been a shaking, weakened wreck a second before. He took down the more wounded of the lion's first, jaws ripping out his throat with an ease Sarabi envied. The buffalo panicked at the sight, swing at him wildly with its horns, and as a result caught the larger lion square in the ribs. Scar pounced on the lion's now exposed stomach, claw raking him to shreds.

The buffalo ran at the sight, but Scar leapt after her like a streak of dark light. Charging blindly the cow slammed and trampled many of her smaller allies, which Scar systematically killed with ease as they lay on the ground dazed.

After that came in quick succession an unawares gnu, wounded antelope, a warthog who had been busy slamming its tusks into a snarling lionesses side, before rounding back, finding the buffalo who had charged in panic, leaping on her back and biting so hard that the spine cracked and white bone could be seen when the black beast crumbled.

More ravens came down, fresh thorns covered in poison stabbed into him so deep they stayed there even once the bird had gone. A whole handful soon decorated his back and flanks, rustling as he moved like porcupine quills. Scar went on to dispatch one after the other after the other, the dead bodies rapidly starting to litter the ground, stirred the remaining horde into a deeper panic than before, causing Sarabi to lose sight of the King for periods of time. A trio of big lions was honing in on him, but kept getting cut off by the stirring crowd of wild creatures. She could see other Pridelanders darting in amongst them, trying to avoid being trampled. The enemy lion's attention got stolen by Hodari who had passed too close to them, the ravens started to dive again, at a place on the other side of the horde.

Sarabi's breath rattled as the numbness begun to lift. She lay in dirt destroyed and wet with hippo blood, squirming and fighting, but her body only twitched and shivered in response. It was something. At the point where she was able to kick her legs weakly, her little wood dove returned.

"Queen Sarabi, you should not be left alone like this. Anyone could set upon you right now and kill you." It was a good point. Not bothering to defend herself, Sarabi barrelled straight on to her new plan.

"Spread the word to reground back up on Pride Rock. Now. Everyone you can find, send them running for the Rock."

"What if I find them weakened like you?"

"I... scout for them while you spread the word, tell any Pridelanders you come across to start making their way back to Pride Rock when possible. And prepare to fortify it. Find Hodari. Use him to aid those you find unable to walk on their own."

"It shall be done."

Luckily a primitive form of control had returned to her, because a monkey came racing up to her, the little knives their kind were famous for fashioning clutched in each hand.

"It is you, the Queen?"

She sneered at the squash faced animal. Why on earth would she confirm something like that? A fact that would likely get her killed on the spot?

"You should hurry and send your royalty away. They won't publically execute them, but she will make sure they meet their ends discreetly. Even the three cubs." His frantic words ached with sincerity. And monkeys were terrible liars. Confusion blindsided her.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"If we stop playing along, she will have us killed. Please, let the Serengeti King's survive to return another day. We were all so sorry when word spread of the Lost Cub Simba we-"

"Don't you talk about my son like that! Plying his memory. Is this the cause you lot hold dear, honouring my sweet little cub? You have a funny way of showing it."

"In a twisted way." The look in the monkey's impossibly large eyes made her pause. "When the future king was killed followed by the Fair King Mufasa abdicating, it felt like the goodness had been taken from the throne. Then King Scar took over, everyone hated him, even before. It was like something rotten and wrong had plotted and seized the spoils. Animals didn't want him, so they listen to the Queen of Horns rambling. Even us monkeys were taken in for a time, now we regret it, but it's too late for regret now."

"Yes. It is." Wind whipped the dust up into a frenzy, the billows so dense she struggled to make out anyone around them. For all she could see, it was just her and this monkey in a chalky sun beamed world. The monkey talked like he expected her to die any second, and there was so much he had to say, to lift years of self imposed guilt. She couldn't care less.

"And some of these animals are here for other reasons - promises the Queen has no intention of keeping." Sarabi could believe that. Never did two species join in battle for the same two reasons.

"As much as I would love to discuss the root of this horde's motives with you, there is a battle going on. And I apparently have a family of royals that need urgent smuggling." The monkey coughed, or was it a bark of laugher? It was hard to tell with their shrill vocal cords.

"A horde? They call themselves a revolution." The dust whipped up and had both their eyes springing tears.

"Well that was their first mistake, wasn't it? Lions eat revolutions for lunch." Snapping back at him, Sarabi almost felt it prudent to lick her lips.

"You're not doing much eating right now."

"Put that little Queen up on Pride Rock, I wish your ill-gotten crusade luck. For she will become the tastiest morsel on earth." The monkey stilled at her ominous advice, his eyebrows finally shooting up once it had echoed long enough in his skull drum.

"What would eat her? You?"

"If I was to take a wild guess, her own kind."

"What would you know of getting eaten? Lion Queen?"

"Plenty. Anything can eat a lion." Ghosts of another time, a dark and wet place, squirmed under her skin. Angry open wounds the insects wouldn't leave alone. The feel of larva and eggs inside, feasting on her flesh while she still lived and breathed. The way she had plunged under the water and held her breath, wishing they would drown along with her. Sarabi shifted her body, managing to right all her paws into a position she would be able to stand from. "It's the killing they struggle with."

She had clawed at that wound until it was twice the size, licked all the dead flesh away to reveal the red and alive muscle once more. She had clawed them all out and eaten them in return.

"Good luck."

He looked likely to lunge at her with his knives, so she tensed, poised and ready to swipe at him so hard his head cracked open from the blow. But he did not.

"We will talk again... Queen Sarabi... "

She gritted her teeth, jaw clenched. Dark crossed her vision, wings blacking out half her field of view. Something slender jabbed into her, the tip of it freezing cold in the muscle it sliced through.

And then she knew no more.

_A Gnu half-calf, at the Midday Revolution:_

Dust. Attacking his eyes, inside his lungs, a gritty film all through his mouth. Chester sucked in a desperate breath before hacking coughs returned. It was like he was trailing behind a stampede a thousand strong, the bulldust coating his body in a film, turning his handsome dark hide silver.

Now was not the time to be coughing. Not when lions prowled around him, as elusive as a mirage. Shadows danced like a flame with nowhere to go. Grunting and huffing, the gnu looked around for a foe. But there was nothing. Sometimes the sound of a beast would draw near and the half-calf would stay as still as an infant being hunted. The overwhelming stench of death made his gut turn. Voiding all sense of smell. It seemed a whole waterhole of blood had gushed onto this battle field, and the bright, soft soil was now dark and clotted together. It reeked of iron and fatty tissue tortured into a paste.

A big beast came blundering through the dust, its feet not the pounding of hooves but the yielding smack of paws. Terror struck Chester as the sound drew closer, fiery green eyes the first features distinguishable from the dust.

A lion. Big, dark and shaggy, slinked from the suffocating fog. Chester had never seen the king before, not this close or from any range at all. It was only when the whole body became clear, with a small porcupine's worth of poison needles embedded did he realise who it was he faced.

All the courage left him. All the promises of vengeance and cocky battle talk he had listen and drawn strength from that morning vanished. The King Of The Lands stepped towards him with opening jaws. What should have been blackness edged with gleaming white fangs was nothing but red. Red on red on red on bloody chucks of red. Red even matted the king's neck and chest. His paw steps left slick smudges of more red.

_The gods have come for me. _

His mother's voice rang out in the back of his mind. Words passed from mother to child, mother to child, mother to child...

_There are only three true things in this world. The blessed storms we follow, the glorious union of bull and cow, and the holy mercy-reapers that take our worn bodies and deliver us back to the start. A clot of blood inside a new mother. It is a circle. Around and around and around. Doef, doef, doef. The heartbeat of The Great Migration._

A coward part of him was not ready to go back to the start. The calf part of him yearned for it, a new mother to nurse him and nuzzle the fears away. To be a small one again, and have his mother once more.

The King lunged at him. And Chester did not back away. Instinct made him shield aside, the king's jaws missing his snout and instead clamping down on the forearm flesh of his shoulder. Pain shocked him into screaming out, his bellows still that of a calf, a tender and pleading sound.

The King threw his head from side to side, nearly yanking Chester off his slim four hooves. Tears of pain clouded his eyes alongside the thickening cloud of dust their struggle was creating. A flutter of dove wings filled the air, and then the clamped jaws relaxed their hold. Chester twisted away from the pain, managing to escape the mercy-reaper. For a minute Chester was convinced the king had circled around and was preparing to attack his more exposed flanks. When the second attack never came, he knew for a wild moment that the king must have transformed into a dove and flown away.

The King was gone. Once again Chester stood alone in the dust. Only the bellows and snarls giving away that a battle raged on close by. Shock filled his chest, of the pain and from the death he had been so close to facing. For some strange reason the ancestors granted him life. It was not his place to question it.

Done with this fight, Chester turned and galloped away. Done with glory and the so-so vengeance the alpha brotherhood had raved about. Death was a gift to gnu, and a mercy. Good gnu knew to embrace it as a gift. Good gnu did not throw away the Great Migration for charades such as this. Fighting beasts they didn't have any business going against.

He galloped head long through the dust. Jumping around wheezing bodies and prey that had clumped together in desperate attempts at safety. The dust was lessening quickly, and Chester knew he was running in the right direction. Vision returned. Hazy still, but unobscured. Blood pounded so loud in his ears that the chasing of hooves was not audible until the antelope had drawn alongside him.

"Turn back!" The smaller cousin ordered him. Weaving and ducking closer until his heavy breathing tickled against Chester's ribs.

Chester lashed out blindly, kicking the buck's hind legs from under him. The beast went down in a dusty roll, and Chester carried on running.

Head long into a lion. It jumped up and grappling with him, spearing Chester into the ground with a snarl. The breath left his lungs with an 'oof'. The muscle of his shoulder was twisted and pulled as he wrestled with the bigger beast, the wounds tearing deeper with every desperate struggle. A roar resounded from beside his ear, filling his world with both hyper-sensitivity and deafness.

"Return or I execute you here and now!" He was then shoved hard enough to send him reeling back the way he had come. "I'm under orders to kill all deserters. Do you fancy being killed kid?" Chester gathered his balance and glared in the direction the voice was coming from. Amber eyes met silver, and recognition flashed through Chester's mind. It was the one who had noticed him at the meeting.

Chester stamped his forelegs down in front of him, snorting and creating his own dust cloud. He had no desire to be reaped by this one, a beast acting on some antelope's orders, who wouldn't even make a respectful meal out of him. No faithful fever gripped him when faced with the silver eyed lion. He was nothing like the king. Nothing awe inspiring or regal. There was no darkness or blood.

He made to dart around. But the lion moved so fast it was almost flight. Rearing away, rage filled Chester at the injustice. Fine! If death was to take him, let it be the Pridelanders. More of the Queen of Horn's allies sulked around the battle edges. Lions, cheetahs and a whole horde of watchful antelope, ready to box in whoever fled. Chester watched for gapes in their barricade, and found plenty. He could regroup and try in another spot. With a spin and a snort, Chester returned to the dust storm. It blanketed him once more. Shielding him from view. Turning sharply to the left he cantered around cautiously, trying to get close enough to see through the dust, but still remained hidden. Picking his way along the edge of battle, he realised there were tens of beasts trying the same as him. Gathering into groups to ram through the barricade together, or trying to slip past alone. Zebra's nickered and whispered to him as he trotted past, trying to recruit him into their escape groups. Chester ignored them. The herds were too small. But it he charged from another place as the herd did, his chances of being overlooked as they all went for the zebra were high.

There was a quiet patch, where only a few antelope seemed to be patrolling for escapees. It stank of blood like nowhere else on the field, putting him instantly on edge ever what horrors could have possibly occurred here. Making his way slowly and quietly, he jumped in fright when a dead hippo was revealed before him. It was like a boulder. Side stepping the dead fighter with wide eyes, he tripped over something on the ground. Grunting and stumbling about for balance, Chester nearly fell over again when he recognised the body of a lion. He held his breath, some irrational part of him convinced it was only sleeping and would wake up all too soon. The brutal wounds of the beast did little to ease his panic. Long seconds past in silence. Frozen solid like this, he begun to notice what he had missed before. Another one, this time a lioness, lay some metres away.

This one was still breathing.

He battled down the urge to scream.

Somewhere near the rock, the Commander Buffalo bellowed three times. The signal to regroup and fold back into line. Chester wanted to die, convinced the monstrous war cry would wake the sleeping lionesses.

A paw twitched, causing Chester to jump his own height in fright, but nothing more came from the female. Edging back a hoof at a time, the ten month old slowly backed away.

It had gone quiet. He had not realised it, too busy with holding his own breathe. But the entire battle had silenced. Half the dust settled in the time it took for him to inch back five metres. Now that the air was clear enough for him to see Pride Rock loaming over him, Chester was struck frozen again.

Up there. Back on the ledge he had stood before the battle, was the King. _Must have flown up there after attacking me._ The dark lion was looking down below him, a bone rattling roar building inside him with rage, until it reached breaking point. The King threw his head back and _roared. _Sunrays and dust swirled around him like ghostly visitors. The roar echoed and grew. It multiplied and drew in like thunder inside a canyon.

From here Chester could see as one of his fellow gnu started to climb the Rock. He was close enough to make out the details. The unsteady placing of hooves against smooth, steep rock. The inaudible grunt of determination to charge up the pathway. A buffalo followed and it gave the gnu a reservoir of confidence. With renewed vigour the gnu bounded up, stumbling once, twice, but not a third time.

He was dead by then. A lion had come down and slammed him so hard the gnu went tumbling head over hind, free falling for metres before coming down onto jagged rocks. He impacted with a sickening bend of the spine.

No.

_A Lakelander, at the Fallen Rock:_

They sneered that the Golden Kings were weak, peace loving fools. Their Pridelanders dumb and friendly. Bukoba knew now that they lied. It felt like they outnumbered the Pridelanders twenty to one in the beginning, yet getting a grip on victory proved to be like trying to bite down on water. It was even worse once they drew back into the fortress that was their beloved Rock. Even with the calming drugs the Queen of Horn smuggled into their meat pile, they fought savagely.

His responsibility had been to stay back from the battle, and privately he had been relieved. Not only did it save him from getting a clawful, but even better, it had afforded him the perfect place to watch the spectacle of beasts in combat. Until the dust was disturbed at least. A part of him sympathises with the prey trying to flee. It didn't look fun in there. But he did his duty. Again and again he scared them back into the fray. It had consumed his time, herding them back like a long suffering shepherd. Wars were not won by giving up.

Victory should have been easy. The Queen's ravens had enough poison quills made up that they could afford two for every Pridelander. It should have been enough, especially when paired with the meal pile drugs that destroyed their immune systems. They should have dropped like flies. One quill was enough to sedate a lion in a matter of minutes, two was hazardous, three was certain death.

He still remembers that heart stopping moment, when the battle eased. He had assumed they had won, but as the dust started to settle Scar came into view. Then he had gotten a good look as the King flung his head back and roared. His flanks and even his mane glimmered as the sunlight caught the movement of quills.

It seemed the Queen's plan had failed. It was now time to fight.

He had priorities. With the fight now coming to its deadly point, it was time he found Diku and her cubs. Benji and Nala. His little daughters. It was imperative he found and identified them before some solider got over enthusiastic and sliced them apart. In the haze of the battle that came after, as all the pray ran scared and only lions, cheetah, and odd crazed gnu remained, he remembers searching every young lionesses face for familiar features. They threw themselves at their enemies with blood-thirsty ambition. The weakening draughts placed in their foods had its desired effect, noticeable in the way the pride members often landed unbalanced. Other than the tiny opportunities it gave in the fighting, there was no other visible effect.

This was what the Queen of Horns got for using a sub-par poison master. The very best refused to work for her no more, apparently her payments no longer met the mark.

The fighting had carried on into the afternoon, ambushing each other around the boulders of Pride Rock. Parts of the untrained horde that had yet to flee were ordered to stand guard down the bottom and make sure no one came in or out. He had paired up with the Alpha and slowly they started to overpower the Pridelanders.

Scar had fought like a monster, almost killing two of their lions and giving the Alpha a terrible wound across his cheek. Bukoba was almost afraid to approach the King, all the quills still stabbed through his body. In the end it had taken Kuu to put him down, the spy had still been pretending to be a Pridelander up to that point, enjoying the charade and having the time of his life. The King let him in close and looked away, focussing on Bukoba who had been approaching from the other side. Kuu, the insufferable snivelling rat had finally done his job and taken the King down with the element of surprise while Bukoba used the confusion to go in trying to knock the monster unconcious. They bashed him down again and again, to the appoint where he surly should have died.

Was this how that Mufasa lion survived a stampede, trapped under a thousand bodied but seemingly retaining little damage? The King wanned before them; exhausting taking over once the Alpha arrived and paid him back with a matching cheek swipe that nearly took Scar's eye out.

After the King was subdued, the tides started to turn dramatically. Ravens arrived with new quills, alongside the Queen and a band of monkeys who had gnu carrying lopes upon lopes of ropes.

The monkey's tied the King up nice and tight as Alpha and Bukoba held him down. The fellow male thrashed the whole time, smearing blood all over the rock he was pressed into. When the gnu finally dragged him off, the extent of the bleeding was revealed to be dangerously severe. Thick puddles of it gather in the dips of the rock, deep enough to splash as the Alpha walked across the bloody scene. The Queen had clear orders for Scar to live long enough to surrender the lands to her, and Bukoba felt a tickle of annoyance at the stupidity of actively keeping their greatest foe alive.

He paced darkly along the newly claimed Pride Rock, soon to be Horn Rock or some such nonsense. This was infuriating. Not only had the incompetent army suffered unimaginable losses against a handful of lions, twenty eight in fact, which was technicaly a bit more than a handful. No matter. The most annoying issue was what the recent reports revealed to him. The monkeys which were tasked with immobilising the Pridelanders had announced that valuable hostages could not be located. The Fair King Mufasa was missing, Sarabi was not amongst the Pridelanders, and neither were the three heirs the spies had spoken of. Out of the six lions they absolutely had to capture, they only had one.

And worst of all, where on earth was his children? None of the apprehended answered to the names Nala or Benji, all he got for his efforts was glares mixed with hatred and, what seemed to be, bemusement? Bukoba stalked down the Rock on his way to the battle field.

A roped up lion was being dragged up the path behind a gnu, his stormy yellow eyes meeting his as they past. It was the cub he had first talked to, the one who told him about his daughters.

"You. Where are Benji and Nala." The boy played a farce of looking around. The gnu bull halting to watch the conversation cautiously.

"Not here, obviously." Cocky little shit... he had to know something. Where they were posted or most likely to be. Maybe they escaped like five out of six of the Queen's prize prisoners had.

"Where then?" The cub fixed him with a terrible yellow glare, contempt sneering out from him as he lay across the ground.

"How in all the Pridelands would I know?!" The cub then struggled against his restraints, rolling onto his belly and trying to stand no matter that his hind legs were lashed together, and his front paws were in much the same situation. He wasn't so little anymore, but still an adolescent. Killable. Ergh, should he really be thinking this? Bukoba pushed him over just as the lion started to get to his feet, listening in satisfaction as the sub-adult cursed. The buffalo snorted and carried on up Pride Rock, making the yellow eyed lion swear more and twist in a futile effort to avoid sharp rocks. Bukoba chuckled. It would be fun dealing with these Prideland lions until they were exiled. Or executed.

A cheetah limped up to him, the lesser cat wincing at bruised ribs.

"The antelope believe they have found Queen Sarabi," she told him, her freckled face turning to nod in the direction Sarabi must be in.

"Better be," Bukoba muttered darkly, trotting off with the cheetah slowly following.

It was her. The second he saw her body laid out beside the hippo he knew. A single quill gleamed in her neck and Bukoba took the time to thank the one smart raven up there, intelligent enough to realise that if three quills wasn't working on Scar, then it might be time to switch targets.

"That's her," he confirmed to the antelopes standing around shooting the cheetah nervous glances. Oh sure, be afraid of the cheetah and not the hulking lion able to snap said cheetah in two. Bukoba knew he was being unfair to the little creatures. Cheetahs were their natural predator, rarely if ever did they find themselves on the business end of a lion. He sent one of the horned creatures off to find a free pair of the rope trotting monkey and gnu.

Bukoba sat down and oversaw the knotting and dragging of her majesty, dutifully making sure she wasn't strangled, kicked in the head or some such nonsense. Alpha meet them at Pride Rock and immediately took charge of the operation, walking directly beside the limp body of his nemesis and staring at her in bizarre wonder. This was the first time Alpha had seen Sarabi so close up, and knocked out like this her features were peaceful. Obviously the sight of what appeared to be an ordinary, calm lioness was short-circuiting his brain. From the way all the rebel lions described her, she might as well be growing horns and a mane.

Bukoba resumed his search of the field, searching for Pridelanders or the wounded. A small party of healing trained monkeys was moving around, going from one antelope guard to the next who signified a wounded but healable solider by their feet. There was word that the mystic baboon had been captured, but was currently tied up, possibly literally, with King Scar as the Queen of Horns stubbornly tried to bring him back into consciousness. Most likely the poisons were kicking in and killing him.

As Bukoba walked, animals automatically assumed he had some authority simply because of his lion like appearance. It was understandable, they had until this evening been ruled for thousands of years by a lion dynasty. In the Lakelands the situation was much different; warfare had torn all system of government down generations ago, even before the Tyrant, the Rebellion, and then the formation of the Five Great Gangs.

"Took you long enough, luckily the lioness hasn't shown any intention to move." Bukoba looked with befuddlement as a gnu arrived at his side speaking to him with irritation. Distantly he recalled someone coming to him during the binding of Sarabi and telling him to urgently head somewhere. He had dismissed the messenger with a nod, forgetting all about it.

"Ah, there is a lot going on this evening." Bukoba bluffed, keeping pace with the annoyed animal as he was led to where an assembly of gnu and antelope was circled.

Pushing through a gap the gazelles opened up for him, he stopped short at the sight in the centre. A fully grown lioness lay, obviously dead with the way her hind legs were being held together by strings of tendons alone. Tucked into the embrace of this lioness was a smaller one, distraught with grief, past the crying stages and simply lay there shaking. The grown lioness was too pale to be Diku, but the grieving one looked around the right age to be one of his daughters. Bukoba hedged his bets and mustered up all the courage he had.

"Nala, Benji?" The lioness's ears perked in instinctive interest at the last name. Bukoba held his breath as her head turned to peer at him, tearstained eyes dead and empty. _Which one are you? Hello, I'm possibly your father. Gee sorry about your dead pal there._ All these sentences rattled around his head. Luckily none came out. As she took in the unfamiliar sight of him, her lemon eyes lightened into silver with fury. Confirming to him that this was definitely one from his seed, the shade so similar to how his own eyes were described it was startling. A vicious snarl took hold of her, the transformation so quick it caught him off guard.

"_I'm going to kill you."_

Well this... was not ideal. As the young lioness staggered to her feet and stalked over to him, Bukoba faintly felt the cold hold of fear take a hold of him as he marvelled at the sight of his daughter.


	14. A Shining New Era

A Shining New Era

_A Rainbow-Face, Resting His Palm On The King:_

The King remained still like he had been instructed, but the stubborn lion managed to continue with his rage, labouring without moving an inch. Breathing in desperate, big gasps up and down, his chest expanding under the baboon's old hand.

"Damn them!"

Rafiki shushed him and continued stroking his fur. It had dried into a crusty coat of knotted hair, the blood and dirt not yet cleaned off. He dare not ponder the state of Taka's mane. "A curse on them all!"

"Best reserve your energy for living Your Grace, you have precious little left."

"Of living or energy?" The angry lion snorted, tail twitching in annoyance as furiously as leaves spun in the winds of a twirly-whirly. Rafiki was aware this was one question he best leave unanswered.

Gently he located another cut in Taka's hide and prodded at it. Picking up a bowl of healing water with one hand, he kept the other on the wound so not to lose it again. Rafiki carefully rationed his water use, trying to get what felt like broken skin from the stomp of a hoof, as clean as possible before applying Bucha oil. Taka hissed at him but did not flinch. This was hardly the first wound dressing of the afternoon.

The King's most life threatening wounds had been given much more attention, inflicting more pain. The deeper the wound the deeper the water had to go to clean it and the slathering of the antiseptic oil always burned. For the particularly vicious or worrisome looking wounds Rafiki gave them extra care. The leaves of healing plants he had dried out and weeks ago over were pressed over the gashes. Then he glued the whole thing together with plaster made from a mixture of boophane roots, honey, and a few secret ingredients.

The end product was an unrecognisable lion. If he was not darkened into near-blackness by the dried blood, then the dirt had turned him grey, and to break it all up smears of beige plaster showed throughout his fur, desperately plugging the King up and stopping him from bleeding out.

_I barely saved him in time, scarce more minutes and he would have bleed beyond salvation before my eyes._ _It is a miracle he has recovered enough to shout curses on others. In such a short time too. He fought through midday and succumb to his wounds in the afternoon, and here he lays holy undeterred by evening. The sun has not even fallen yet on this... chaotic day._

These damn kings and their unkillable attitudes. If he was not such a long-lived creature, he would have concluded it a mixture of extreme luck, stupidity and raw strength. But far too many times had he held witness to King's coming back from death like it had just been a wee nap. Mohatu did it thrice, Uru survived longer than any mortal beast had business doing without a drop of water, Mufasa once and then once more during the Stampede Tragedy, now Taka taps into some kingly power before his very eyes, seemingly without realising it. _It must be some gift from the ancestors, a blessing of healing power, or may perhaps an inheritance of stubbornness so wilful their hearts would never dare stop beating. _

"The rebels want the Pridelands surrendered during the night, so that the sun will rise on their new kingdom." Taka's eyes rolled as they searched for a glimpse of Rafiki. "Meditate on this, if you're able to nap then do so. You have a long night in front of you, facing something none of your ancestors have done before." The medicine-beast pulled clods of dirt from under Taka's fur, nearly jumping as the lion's whole body bounced with a scoff.

"Give up the lands. Your quite right, no other king has managed that." Rafiki would have scolded him harshly for such talk, had the situation not been what it was. There was very much a danger of that exact act happening.

"Surely you can negotiate. What interest do they have in ruling? Obviously they have demands that can be met and desires that can be played against them."

"No." Rafiki got the distinct impression that in the lion's mind he was being called stupid. "These ones are not some bandit group. Well, perhaps half of them are bandits, but the ones in charge are not."

The two fell into silence. Even if Rafiki wished to leave, he could not. They had bound his legs and placed guards outside the den. If he overcame one, there would still be the issue of the other. Even then, what point was escape when his most important priority was before him? Rafiki continued to try and fix the King to distract him from a feeling of uselessness.

Taka gradually become so quiet and relaxed that the old baboon thought him napping per his instructions. Shuffling closer to the den entrance so to peer outside, Rafiki saw that the sun was close to gone, turning the sky a spectrum of lilac purple. A heavy layer of clouds had dropped from the atmosphere, lingering just enough that they avoided becoming fog. Perhaps this was the last the sun would ever see of Pride Rock. It might only be a rock by morning.

The sound of the King's voice startled him from deep thought.

"I don't have a care for fighting them. Let them have the damn throne. Why shouldn't they be allowed to rule themselves, choose their own leader and own laws? Sure the whole thing is ripe for corruption and will likely lead to the downfall of the Pridelands, but at least it will be their fault." The King sounded so terribly sad.

"You would rather the Pridelands burn then give an effort?" Was this really a lion that lay before him, speaking these words?

"Effort? I toil and toil for nothing, every day as King all I did was make sacrifices. All our pride does is sacrifice time and lives. For who? For_ them?!"_

Rafiki was disturbed that Taka was already speaking of his kingship in past tense.

"For the grasses and the trees, for the calves, hatchlings and the cubs. For the land your ancestors were given by the grace of the animals. A burden it may be, but it is a responsibility your blood is worthy of." Again Taka fell into a long silence. Rafiki busied himself organising his healing supplies.

"You're wrong. My ancestors knew no lands to love and were cruel beasts, drifters most likely with low-"

"Your _Queen Mother_ governed here, your King Grandfather ruled from this very rock!" Rafiki's fists hit the ground with every dead relative he mentioned. "Your King Great-Grandfather and Queen Great-Great-Grandmother and two hundred years back until the records stretch no further, but know this,_ your_ _ancestors_ were _ruling_ this very kingdom long before the records begun." Rafiki circled around to argue directly at Taka's face. Those vivid green eyes were dull and empty of all fight. Taka spoke softly, is voice just a whisper into the earthen floor.

"It is the way of things. Rocks weather down and rivers divert. Nothing deserves to stay the same, especially not an ideal as presumptuous as a ruling family. Let it go back to Old Ways were animals roamed free." This _child_ presumed to tell him of the Old Ways?

"In the Old Ways beasts kept to their own kinds, the strong bullied the weak and there was no one there to uphold any manner of justice. Schools of medicine were impossible to set up because life was so dangerous; predators targeted children instead of sickened adults because it was simply easier. Animals were born, lived and died without knowing what it felt to feel safe." Taka shifted his head a little bit, so he could avoid looking directly at Rafiki.

"I hardly think the new order is going to absolve all hunting lore. They might make a few improvements."

"And starve one out of ten of their subjects?"

"Was that not what Mother did to the hyena? Enforce crippling sanctions? We are no better." Rafiki felt like screaming. The hyena were driven out because they were killing for sport. It was the injustice of the Old Ways in action, where the strong did what they pleased to all others. But the pride ruled here, and they were driven out. It was a perfect example of what being King stood for, yet he saw it as a flaw?

"Aye, she banished them. And many years past, a generation came and went, and an insightful King amended it. The guilty served their rightful punishment, and blameless children were returned to the lands." It was just. Both his mother's actions and his own. Why could he not see that? Taka lifted his head for the first time, and snarled at him.

"We're not this perfect, ideal family who always make perfect, ideal choices. We're not infused with magic blood thanks to our ancestors, the fairy tree and the golden lion. Gods don't kiss our foreheads at birth. It's just you rubbing red dirt and shimmering us up with oils. You paint on what you want to see and cover up the ordinariness. What is so hard about admitting that I'm just a normal lion?" Oh dear. Not this phase. Rafiki remembers when Uru spent a time thinking similar, planning some sort of government where she would spread responsibilities over a number of species. Nothing about it was plausible. To try and share power was to ignore the very reason for lion leadership in the first place. Protection. Safety. _Stability._

"I never said you were more than a normal lion. I simply acknowledge that you were raised to be better. Besides, the ancestors do bless you." Here Taka rolled his eyes and sneered. Rafiki barely resisted the urge to drag a hand across his face in frustration.

"The ancestors. Your hallucinations. Dust on the wind and leaves in the bottom of your potions speak to you, do they? Watch down over me, right? Please Rafiki. I liked legends as much as the next cub, but there must come a time when the harsh reality of life takes its place." _He has lost faith. _Rafiki knew it was bad, but never entertained that it had gotten _this_ bad. Playing with the ropes that bound his legs together, Rafiki called with desperation for the ancestors to aid him.

"You put a lot of effort into denying yourself the throne. It is where you belong."

"I belong nowhere." Ergh, so sullen and moody. Rafiki looked around the empty space of the den searching for a sign. There was nothing. The bastards were leaving this all up to him. Arranging himself into a neat sitting arrangement, Rafiki clasped his hands and prepared to tell the King a story.

"In the Era of War, where the grasses burned and Gods killed beasts in the droves, and chaos reigned all around, the hyena became loyal to only one beast. Their chosen lion. Loyal to no other, not even their own kin. They saw the strength of the lions and their prides as the only force that would save the lands from the dark time." For awhile after his words, it was quite. Rafiki dared hope Taka had taken the historical fact to heart.

"More myths," the King croaked out, his voice tired and empty of all fight.

"Every myth holds a core of truth. And with this a truth holds. Lions are the only major predators that protect and care for one another. When war comes, it is not the size of a beast that saves them, or else the elephant would rule. It is not the strength of a beast, or else the buffalo would rule, nor is it even the most deadly, where the leopard out rules you with stealth and ability. It is in the instinctual ability to form a society and _rule_ that society."

Rafiki realises most of what he knows is myths and folk-histories. That is his role, after all, as a rainbow face. He keeps the history of the land, along with all the knowledge. The medical knowledge and worldly knowledge. He knows that on the other side of the Great Lake is dense rainforest home to bizarre creatures. He knows that thousands of years ago, even before the current era, the Dynasty Era, or even the Era of War: in the Old Times, there was a shard of the moon that fell from the night sky and landed in the Wasteland. It created a valley so dramatic clouds were caught on its mountain peaks and water pooled inside the crater. He knew of oceans, though he had never seen one, and knew of corals, fishes, sharks and whales. The spirit of a whale had visited him once, as she swam on by through the night exploring a world as bizarre to her as the ocean was to the land beasts. He knew once no one could speak, instead they all ran around grunting and growling, nothing more than large ants crawling about.

He knew about the Era of War, because spirits who had lived then told him. About the Gods, black creatures with coats as smooth as stone, that roamed on two legs and crafted nests big enough for cows to sleep inside. About their spears, knives, and will to kill whatever crossed their path. The Gods were strange and bloodthirsty idols to be worshiped from far, far away. Some served them. The cattle, the peasants, the dogs - and a handful more - they thought the Gods merciful beings who looked after their earthly children. Even the mice thought them loving and made their homes near so as to be close to their Gods and the gifts they gave them. They drove families off their lands, bled bloodlines dry, sparked fires that burned for nights on end. Their nests spread like disease across the lands. Only with the lions could the lands find the bravery, and most importantly, the organisation to rise against the Gods. It took a lion to keep so many in line.

Rafiki could tell him all about the legendary Era of War, how a million creatures drove the Gods away. Back and back until the last clan climbed Kilimanjaro in desperation to escape back home to the sky. They ran from animals that hunted them in the night and drove them away in the day. The lions went up the rumbling mountain after them - a hundred of them. The volcano shook and roared as battle raged over five days and nights. Yet even when it glowed red at night, the lions did not turn back for safety. They kept on, intent to close in on any of the Gods that remained. All the way to the very edge, where it was colder than anywhere in the world. And when it ended, only a scarce nine lions survived the journey down.

On that day the crowds who waited at the foot of the volcano bowed and recited the oaths they had been practicing amongst one another while the lions left to scale the sky.

They left as lions, and after The Battle Above The World, they returned as demi-gods. The lions were tired and wishing nothing more than to return to simple life. But they accepted the pledges of the animals who had bravely and loyally served them during the War Against The Gods. And thus began the Dynasty Era.

Those lions sounded a lot like Taka did now, tired and angry that more was still expected of him. But the First King's did not turn away from the revolution before them, and neither would Taka. Rafiki knew it in his bones.

The nine split the lands that went to war, allowing representatives from those lands to pick which of the nine they wished to protect them. And so the lands were split, and the Kings were crowned.

The final battle ground, the land on which the Gods were finally killed and the demi-god kings were crowned, was Kilimanjaro and her surrounding children. It was all volcanic rock and frosty winds, small, isolated, full of bad spirits and largely considered a cursed land. The representatives for Kilimanjaro did not choose their lion. They were last in the line to choose; only one lion remained for them.

It was a gentle lion, watchful and loyal. He did not seem displeased by being left to last, nor in being given the least desirable of all the Kingdoms. He then promised the animals who remained to the lands, few and haggard that they had been, that he and his blood would keep vigil on Kilimanjaro for the next hundred years. Ensuring not a single God climbed down from the sky every again. He named the kingdom _Kilimonjaro and Her Cradle_, for hope of sanctuary, maybe.

To the east of Kilimanjaro and Her Cradle was the orange soiled _Nation of Tsavo_. This land stretched eastward until it pressed against the ocean, and chose the lone lioness of the surviving nine. Tsavo was a land ruled by females, and saw it fate that they could choose her.

Below both of these kingdoms stretched the _Usambara Alps_, an impassable line of mountains filled with cliffs. The migratory birds called it a jungle haven. These mountains were nowhere near as high as Kilimanjaro, so there was no risk of the gods managing to climb down them. They chose the smallest lion, a grey surefooted creature they thought would look most at home in their misty valleys.

The rugged mountain range started at the sea and stretched all the way inland until it slopped away into the _Province of Tarangire_. The Province was far dried than the other three. But they had an unstoppable mighty river running straight through them, and was home to the second biggest lake of them all. The representatives chose the oldest lion, shrewd and knowledgeable.

Next came one of the most mysterious lands of them all, no matter that it was the only one to be hemmed in on all sides by brother territories, it still maintained its strangeness and distance with ease. _Ngorongoro_. It had Kilimanjaro and Her Cradle to one side, the Serengeti Region to the other, the Province of Tarangire underneath and the Nairobi Kingdoms above. In Ngorongoro wonders happen. Shards of the moon fall down, lakes fill with crystals and the sand hummed. The wind blows the sands north, and Ngorongoro's borders follow it, residing over the vast stretch of unhospitable desert with pride. The rest of Ngorongoro's land was fertile, filled with dramatic landscapes a glow with green. It teamed with life, safe behind the buffer that was the sand. But drought has crippled them for generations, ever since their lions were wiped out by a terrible plague. All consider Ngorongoro cursed - the new graveyard to replace Kilimanjaro and Her Cradle. A Wasteland.

The _Serengeti Region_ was to the east of this secretive place. The richest of all the lands. It encompassed the land where most of the Great Migration walked. Most importantly, it included the Gnu's holy birthing lands. The most important place on earth.

North of the Serengeti Region was the _Nairobi Kingdoms_. Its ancestral borders included the rich plains the Great Migration travelled so far for. _The Maasai Mara Triangle._ A paradise for half the year, lusher than anything the Serengeti Region could offer even at its most green. The Nairobi Kingdoms then bent like a cat's back stretching, avoiding the Wondering Sands of Ngorongoro and bending back to touch against the corner of the Nation of Tsavo and their lioness leader. The Kingdom's of Nairobi were just that, a collection of peaceful kingdoms, a wholly different beast to all the other lands. So they chose a lion who knew how to listen.

The last two kingdoms resided further inland then the Great Lake itself. They were destined to all ways be separate from the rest. They shared no borders but with each other, because between the Serengeti and themselves stretched over one hundred leagues of lands that had refused the call to war. These lands were collectively known as the Bastardlands. So across the many regions of the Bastardlands, none of which had any sort of organised power or rulers, sat the two wetland kingdoms.

One was largely floodplains and lazy rivers leagues wide. This kingdom had moved back from the lake due to experience after the once in a century floods caught them unawares too many times in a row. This land had little to do with gnu, and instead teamed with buffalo and hippo. A favoured, if more challenging, meal for the lions. This kingdom adopted the name _Floodingwealth,_ and since they were second last to choose and one of the lions had told them specifically not to choose him, they went with the other, a thick skinned soft centred lion originally from an arid homeland. He joked that the crocodiles would have to ferry him across the rivers until he learned to swim. Surprisingly, the crocodiles agreed to this. More surprisingly, he trusted them. Most surprisingly, they didn't eat him.

A tad more north so that they were snug against the Great Lake's southern shores, and a tad to the west so they wrapped around and crept their boarders up the lake. With a whole inland sea between them and the Serengeti, this small nation who simply called themselves _Land of Burigi_ kept much to their own business. Beasts lived amongst the tall grass and never much bothered one another. Most of their wildlife was birds and insects, animals who filled the lands with unbroken soothing music. The young lion they chose was most bored by the peaceful kingdom... that was until he started to learn the local legends. Being the most inland of all kingdoms – more inland then the inland sea – they were also closest to the mythical, much whispered about, never lionly seen, Congo Jungles. Indeed he hiked one of their few mountains and peered off west, he could almost glimpse the fabled dewy emerald of the jungle. It was said to be bigger than the whole known world combined.

And that was the legend of the nine dynasties. Rulership was never something the lion's forced upon the creatures. They were given their kingdom's, willingly, in thanks and respect. Rafiki sighed and looked away from the darkening sky outside.

"Do you remember the Nine Kingdoms?"

"The Nine Collapsed Kingdoms, that is what I remember." Why was Rafiki not surprised?

"The kingdom's have shifted and weathered time as do the rocks, you are right. But their lion rulers remain."

"The Ngorongoro bloodline is as dead and dry as the wasteland that used to be their Kingdom, plunging their kingdom into turmoil so great it all burned up into a wasteland, thus the name. The Floodwealth clashed with forces in the Bastardlands and fell to war, losing their Kingdom and becoming the Lakelands. The Nairobi Kingdom's many kings sort independence, and the royalty were exhiled. The family fled to the Maasai Mara Triangle and have for generations lived as normal lions, no subjects to concern themselves with anymore. To their great delight I'm sure." Yes, Taka would know about that. He had been quite close to the mother of his cub when she had been staying on 'diplomatic service' within the pride.

"Aye, there has been shifting, but the kingdoms that fell and lost their lions have suffered ever, and those that remains continue to prosper. The Nation of Tsavo, Taragine, the Biliga Lands, the Usamabara Alps," Rafiki swallowed and noted that what he was about to say next was one of the most controversial legends of all. "All those places still have Royal Families who reign with peace - as does the Serengeti."

"The Serengeti? The truth of what happen to those kings disappeared long ago in the Pride Wars. What became of them changes with every species you ask." Taka's low opinion of this particular topic was toxic, and Rafiki almost regretted bringing it up.

"Protecting the Holy Birthlands from invasion was undoubtable a harrowing task, and yes, it is believed amongst some that all those of Serengeti Royal blood lost their lives in battle. Where is the shame in such a legacy? Fighting to the last breath, trying to protect their subjects from poaching and the lands from conquest. But Taka does this not sound familiar? The Kingdom collapsed after the disappearance of their royals, everyone knows this, and the lands descending into a hundred years of chaos. Even the Great Migration lost strength and scattered, getting lost and walking thousands of leagues in the wrong directions as they tried to avoid the infestation on their Holy Birthlands. The Pridelands it became.

Filled with nothing but a hundred prides battling over any scrap of land they could claim. The rivers ran with blood and the refugees poured across the borders. But that time ended when the Kings returned – these are saviours undisputedly your direct ancestors. They kept the nation of the Pridelands as it was called by all the animals, so we could always remember the lessons learnt then. You would forget all this, all that your ancestors saved, and see the mistakes remade without a fight?" Of course that was a very bastarised summary of the Pride Wars. The true identity of the saviours who brought the gang war to an end was one of the most debated subjects in history. The original kings returning or simply the strongest gang claiming their prize? Foreigners from another land, time travellers, remnants of a litter getted on a mistress outside the pride? They were nothing like the Serengeti kings, they were too quiet and moved with unparalleled grace, yet their size and strength was unmatched, and their fur shined golden like no others.

"I will see the mistakes remade _without a fight?_ There you go again acting like everything is so black and white. What if they don't plunge the land into civil war? What if they herald a new era? Like the crowd did that day at the foot of the mountain."

The Golden Kings, the New Kings, the Holy Kings, strange spirits that arrived when the land needed them most. They claimed Pride Rock as their centre of power, a throne to which animals could look to and know that whoever occupied it was their protectors and not simply their hunters. Ever since the christening of the outcrop as Pride Rock, the lands retained tentative peace. More tentative then most knew. The Pridelands were only a quarter of what was once known as the Serengeti Kingdom, but all that mattered in the end was that the Great Migration returned. The circle of life continued to cycle. Their Holy Birthlands under guard once more. What used to be a part of the Serengeti fell away into ungoverned territories, the Shadowlands and Grassylands, Canyonlands and Sunlands.

This was more than a lion's right for a kingdom. In a few years time everyone would come to realise this. This was so much more. If the Kings did not hold Pride Rock, and did not protect the Holy Birthlands, than the very being that drove these lands, the Great Migration, stood to shatter into disarray.

"What did it mean to you, to be King?" Silently Rafiki prayed for the right answer. _Protection. Safety._ _Stability._

"To prove them wrong." Luckily Taka was facing away from Rafiki when he admitted this. Self-guilt forced the king to glare at the dirty ground and never dare look up into the face of the Royal Confidant. "My family... that they could be proud of me."

"They are." Rafiki whispered, saddened by the realisation that all Taka wanted was to be worth something.

"No their not. Their dead."

"Mufasa is proud of you."

"Mufasa lost half his memory in the stampede. Sarabi tells him to be proud so he is, but I know what he thinks deep down... a part of him that remembers... he is not proud of me."

A long moment of silence stretched out, where Taka seem to shrink with unease at his own confession and Rafiki scrambled for something reassuring to say that wouldn't be shot down immediately. In the darkness of that den, Taka murmured to himself as tears started to well silently in his eyelashes.

"I wish Simba was here."

Taka had not meant for him to hear that, Rafiki was sure. The little cub's death left a quiet ache inside Rafiki too, but he did not think of the cub in dire circumstances such as this. The realm faced collapse, yet Taka whshed for his late nephew? The heir's presence would not have changed any of this. The cub would not have been able to inherit the Pridelands until he came of age. So Taka would have been King until Simba fully matured, which was still two or three years away. It would have been no different.

"What of your daughter?" Taka stirred, and Rafiki could see that the lion had truly forgotten about the new discovery in the turmoil of today. He remembered like beasts did after waking up, where they were blissfully unawares of tragedy until their mind kicked back with the memory.

"If she becomes anything like her mother, than the loss of royal responsibility will be a relief." _Like her father too,_ Rafiki thought darkly.

"What of Sarabi and Mufasa? Leave your brother with no home to return to? Hand your good-sister to her enemies?"

At that Taka remained quiet. This silence was not broken like the last one. It seemed to stretch for hours.

Eventually they came for Taka. Rafiki watched the two foreign lions order him up and march the King away, one on each shoulder, sneering whenever the injured king wavered and slowed in his walk. No matter how terribly he was in need of someone to lean on, the King never lost balance or braced himself against the two enemies either side.

It was then Rafiki knew the fight was not gone from Scar yet. If there was hope to be won, King Taka would win it, he was sure.

As the three lions disappeared and the gnu bull who had come along with them walked along behind them, Rafiki had an idea. The gnu was hiding his limp well, as all prey species instinctively did, especially in the presence of predators.

The reason for the gnu rebellion was obvious, they had no other sore spot with the lions other than the Massacre. The death of their Lord and Lady along with the seeming slaughter of the Lord's unborn prophecy child. This was one faction easily turned, simply by revealing the truth Taka had, for some reason, refused to make public.

Yes, there was hope. Rafiki would fight for it too.

* * *

_A Numb Lioness, Watching Her Pride Dissolve_

Benji was no coward, but there was only so long you could remain so blatantly hostile in enemy territory. After protecting the body of her mentor through battle and defeat, she was forced to realise that her task had become pointless. Hoppi's family wasn't coming. Her brother would be under tight security, and her two nieces, Nala and Berta, were in no position to step up to the duty, in fact Nala...

She was aware of the situation. With her brother using Nala as a guise. Grandmother and Mother had come to her a moon ago, to explain. At first she had been excited by the prospect of a father. The delight did not last long. If the dangers of what Grandmother and Mother described were not enough to sober her, then the deeds of today stood to plunge her into terrible realisation.

She needed to protect her family. As a young female with a powerful lion as a father, she was as safe as could be when in a defeated pride. But Ulan was in trouble, he was on a razor edge, if his true parentage came out he could be conscripted into the gang per tradition law. It was considered weak to hold onto cub ties within the gangs. All family ties were forcefully severed. Ulan would likely never see them again, and die in some stupid battle in the middle of nowhere, in a stupid swamp with no one to care whether his spirit made it to the ancestors. If not killed in a fight, he would be murder by disgruntle gang members, who would despise him as a foreigner. No matter that both his mother and father were Lakelanders through and through, Ulan knew nothing of wading through swamps and swimming across rivers. They would eat him alive. Mother told them that Father would not understand this. He would see the conscription into the gangs as a good thing; after all it was where he grew up, in the camps of the guerrilla lions. Their father would think it the best for a young male, to go off and learn to fight, to become brothers with his fellow soldiers.

On the other side of this razor edge was execution. If his identity as Mother's son was to come out, then they would know he was of Grandmother's blood. No male descendent of Sarabi was allowed to live and breathe.

The best Ulan could get was to be grouped in with the other Pridelander males and be exiled from the lands before anyone realised something was out of sorts. He could remain with the survivors of the pride and gain the ability to one day return to liberate Pride Rock. It was the best line of action for her brother - it was the best for her too. The quicker this rebellion was fought back, the less danger she would be in of having to whelp litters for some brute. Grandmother had explained the attitude most of the Lakelanders had towards lionesses, and she was not interested in getting a firsthand experience of the infamous treatment. She would prefer her idiot betrothed over the likes of that. At least Enam had been making an effort at be kind to her of late, and they had known each other since cubhood so there was nothing strange or scary about him. They had even started exploring each other's bodies, which was gloriously wonderful, and she would dearly miss the boy, his temper and tongue both.

Benji pressed her forehead to Hoppi's one last time, the body now cold and the blood throughout her coat dried and dark. Night had settled over them, leaving everything silvery and grey. The loss of her mentor would change everything – well, the loss of the pride would change even more. But now what? Would the conquerors keep the lionesses per traditional rules of combat? Surely their antelope leader did not want lionesses staying about. However, she was sure some of the gang lions would have designs on taking the lionesses as spoils of war, and that was most likely where the fate of the female Pridelander's led.

Somewhere off to the side, her father waited. Sulking and licking his wounds she hoped, but that was hardly likely. No matter how angry, a small, mediocre apprentice-huntress like her barely stood a chance against a fully grown male considered one of the best warriors the Lakelands had to offer.

Fuck. And now comes the hard part, remembering that Nala was her 'sister' and Ulan was nothing to her. There could be no slips. No matter what becomes of the pride, she needed to protect her brother. Give him the little safety he stood to get.

"If you don't come with me now, someone else will fetch you." Her father's voice rumbled behind her. Loathe as she was to respond to the gently issued threat, she _was_ better off going with him.

Maybe she could make a run for it? The enemy was so busy here, making sure the Pridelanders were subdued and trying to pick their injured off the battle ground. She might run for a league, but father would be on her tail. A raven would track her. Lions were not endurance animals. Exhaustion would set in soon, and some gnu or antelope would catch up to her. Where would she run to? What hope was there for a lone apprentice?

She could scarcely make a successful hunt, and that was with Hoppi helping her. Without the security of a pride to protect her, she would be attacked by roaming males, mated with, abandoned to deal with a litter should their seed take root. She would have to birth them and watch them die because she can't feed herself let alone them, she can't protect them from beasts who would try to trample them dead or lions who would kill them then mate her and abandon her once again to watch more newborns die. And the carrying, birthing and milking would weaken her so much death was inevitable for her as well. Obviously the best possible outcome was joining another pride, the price of which was likely to take a mate, at least this one would provide for her and any litters to come. The pride lionesses would complete her training and then what? A life spent as a reluctant mother with no real family to speak of.

No. Running away was unthinkable for a Pridelander. And that was what she was. She was born on Pride Rock, and like all Pridelanders, she was raised to believe in something bigger than herself. She believed in the peace of the land, and her life will be spent and sacraficed ensuring that. No matter what.

"Let's go."

Her father snorted in bemusement at her words.

"You speak like you're the one making the decisions."

_What an idiot. I am._

If anyone could hack it, Nala could. The girl knew how to hunt and hide. She would have Mufasa and Zazu with her in the beginning, but the male was crippled and slow. She would be forced to leave him behind before long. And then it would just be her and three cubs, fleeing into strange lands.

"You'll be put with the lionesses. They are using ropes to immobilise you, it's one of the cleverest things I've seen, but don't panic. The binds should be off soon enough, once the Pridelands are officially passed over the Queen wants you all released.

The mention of the female ruler perked her interest, a slight bit of admiration growing for her enemy. Perhaps there was a possibility there, safety in serving the new ruler who could protect them from the Lakelanders.

"What's this Queen like?" What did it take for one to mobilise such a miss-mash army, and keep it from falling to pieces?

"Shrewd. There is actually two of them, the Queen of Horns and the Queen of Thorns. Ones got horns and the other doesn't, and it's confusing because the one_ without_ horns is the Queen of Horns. It's easy to mix their names up, and they don't like it."

"So two queens? Sounds ... interesting." Were they just allies? Or sisters? Lovers? Now that would be something she could get behind. Who needs the males?

"They actually plan to have a council of leaders, so in all there will be two queens and three or so kings. All different species too. Obviously it will dissolve into shambles within a handful of seasons and then we'll-" her father cut his words short unexpectedly. Benji smirked to herself, amused that he had been spilling details that where most likely very high on the secrecy spectrum.

"Well, I guess time will tell." _They plan to betray the Queens._ She tucked that information away, determined to stew over it later when no one was around.

After that she was escorted in silence. Often the lion threw secretive little glances at her, which she pretended not to notice. She might have thought him suspicious of her, but Benji understood what they were. Now that emotions had settled, it was hard to take her eyes off him. This was her father, her sire, and this was the first time in her life they stood before each other. He was muscled and strong, but not monstrously big like some Pridelanders got. His coat was that wet fawn of all Lakelander, but his had shades to it, almost dark silver in patches. Deep brown like rich soil made up the bulk of his mane, but the topmost layer that fanned around his face was lighter. Once again making him full of varying shades as the sandy and swampy colours intermingled. Softly, he guided her up Pride Rock and around the far side of it, to where she knew multiple unused den's lay. There was no boisterous or confident trait to his body language, he was almost telegraphing shyness, something she never expected. He was gentle natured. A gentle and shy warrior. What a paradox.

"My mother's name was Benji." It was a sudden admission, the words sounding like they were thrown out before he had the chance to take them back. Benji frowned at the Lakelander who was busy paying close attention to the ground.

"She died giving birth, ah, she was too young and her body couldn't..." She remained quiet as their walking slowed and they drew to a stop between slabs of towering rock. This was something he felt needed to be said. She could hear it in his voice. Like a guilt that had been bottled for too long. "I was the only one to survive out of the litter. I was the first born, and a sister came after, but if there was any more they suffocated inside her. My sister died the next day... she wasn't strong enough." Pity was the first reaction she had, but that was not why he was telling her. For pity. It was history, his family – their family – her namesake. A strange feeling struck her then. Benji. Her in another life time. Her grandmother.

"Do you know anything else... about your mother?" Benji. That Benji died young, maybe at the same age she is now, even younger most like.

"Just her name and how she died. That she came to the rebels because she had nowhere else to go. She was too young... just a cub."

What did you say to that? To a lion you have never met before, but was all of a sudden spilling his guts to her because he was her 'father'. It was an empty word when one grew up without a single father to speak of. No male ever stepped in to become a father figure, maybe her grandfather-in-choice would have, but he was never there, away ruling the Kingdom. Any free time he got, it was devoted to Simba and Sarabi, and she could hardly begrudge him that.

Family did not happen overnight. Her father was nothing to her right now, no matter his status as her sire. And he might never be. Trust will be hard for him to earn after the events of tonight. But she will tolerate him, because having him onside will benefit her. Already he was proving his uses, like revealing that the Lakelanders had ulterior motives.

Her father coughed and walked on, leading her in awkward silence to where a guard detail of antelope and some monkeys sat around a den entrance. They were ever gracious to her, instead of roping her up on the spot and dragging her inside, they led her in and sat her down amongst her fellow lionesses, tying her up there with dignity intact. With a fleeting look at her and the others in the den, her father left.

Silence entombed the den as the lionesses patiently waited for the monkeys to walk out of ear shot.

"Was that him?" Whispered the lionesses bound beside her. It was Berta, Nala's sister. She was in on the cover-up, since she needed to know not to refer to Nala as her sister. Benji nodded glumly.

"Better than I expected." The fellow apprentice (were they even apprentices anymore?) observed bluntly. Catching Benji's sour expression, she amended her statement. "He looked kind. Genuinely worried about you. I can only imagine what's going to happen when he realises Nala is nowhere to be found." That caught her off guard.

"He's been looking for her?" She hadn't thought about the effect it would have on him, a part of her assumed he would dismiss his disappeared second child. But that was when she thought of it from her perspective, where Nala didn't mean much. A fellow Pridelander, sure, but not blood. For him, genuinely believing her to be his daughter...

"He was in here an hour ago, looking for you both. I thought he was going to start trying to beat answers out of us, but he's not like that." He's not like that. What was he? Berta's old friend? What did she know about what her father was like? And why couldn't he have just been a jerk. It would have been easier. Now she was catching herself doing disgusting stuff like_ imagining from his perspective._

She looked around the den for the first time, noting who was here. And who wasn't.

There was her, Berta and Sade. All the female apprentices expect for Nala were accounted for. Sade's mother was here, as was her own mother, Benji realised with surprise. For some reason she expected the lioness to be elsewhere, bargaining or catching up with old friends. Berta's mother was not in the den. Sarafina was never the same after taking an injury in the Gnu Massacre, losing her position as Deputy Huntress to Lead Huntress Sarabi. Maybe she got caught in the battle just like Hoppi did. Maybe not. Berta didn't look too worried, but maybe the lioness hadn't seen anyone die out there, not like Benji did, and hadn't comprehended the situation yet.

Whatever the reason, Nala and Berta's mother was nowhere to be found among those in the den.

The old war lioness Lea was here, looking more red than fawn sleeping her blood loss away beside Hono, her adult daughter.

And that was it. Her beside Berta, Lea down the back beside Hono. Diku staring at a wall and sulking in the corner, while Dwala lay out beside her seeming to be trying to offer silent comfort. And beside Dwala was her daughter Sade, who was currently looking Benji's way with a searching expression. Seven.

There were twelve lionesses in the Pride.

Nala was on the run, hopefully far away by now. Hoppi she knew was dead, having watched it happen and guarded the downed lioness until she died and went cold. Only once the body was cold had the spirit safely found its way to the ancestors. Like hell she was going to let one measly hoof get near her and interfere with the delicate process of the afterlife. She had been determined not to fail her mentor in this last task, and cold fury suited her. Killing came easier than ever before, she brought down four, maybe five, big beasts all on her own. It had created a sort of death ring around Hoppi's body.

Sarafina was gone, unconfirmed as dead but Benji had a sick feeling about it. Naanda was gone, the mother to her betrothed Enma, a lioness she got along well with due to their shared love of sleeping the days away on the sunning rocks. Most concerning of all, Grandmother was gone. She tried not to think of all the things that could have happened to Sarabi. Or be happening.

Benji wanted to shout at them, about what the plan was and how they were going to get out. If they knew the fate of anyone else. Ulan, was he okay? She hadn't seen him since the battle preparations.

But she didn't.

Benji knew when to keep her head down and mouth shut. Leaving it to the senior lionesses to decide when and where was the best time to plot. Obviously when immobilised without any facts or idea of the full situation, with a guard detail who possessed sensitive hearing just metres away, was not the best place or time.

They sat in silence for what felt like hours. Shuffling, coughing, and the odd whisper were the only sounds. Whenever the guards had a conversation, their words carried into the den. The silence was all encompassing then, as everyone strained to listen in. They talked about how scared they were before the battle, brave acts they accomplished, how dangerous the adrenaline felt when staring death in the face. When guards swapped they started it all over again, getting to know each other and how 'crazy this all was'.

There was one animal, who seemed a lot older and bigger by the sounds of his rough voice, who asked better questions. How was the count of the dead coming along? Had they gotten all the Pridelanders? What was happening with King Scar? Had they found Mufasa yet?

At one point a troop of monkeys came back in to tighten the ropes until they pinched and ached. They even added another layer of knots for the older lionesses, binding them in yet more rope. A pair of big males went to adjust Lea's ropes, who was still asleep. They tried to adjust them without disturbing her, but eventually they realised she needed to sit up for them.

"Wake her up," one of them ordered her daughter, who had been watching the whole procession with growing distraught.

"Mother's not going to wake up, she stopped breathing awhile ago."

Fuck. Six.

The monkeys exchanged a panicked look and squatted closer to inspect Lea, watching for any hint of breathing or movement. One went to listen for a heartbeat, but putting himself in such proximity to the apex predator scared him off. Benji watched for a sign of life too, but there was nothing.

How long had Hono been sitting beside her mother's dead body, thinking god knows what?

"Shit, he didn't want any dead." one monkey whispered urgently, pulling at the others fur to get his full attention.

"There was nothing we could do," the other scoffed, "we needed our medics to give priority to the troops or it would have been -" trailing off and squatting down close to the body, the monkey reached out and stroked Lea's cheek. His weird hands, with alienating long fleshy fingers, sunk through her fur. The sight of it twisted her gut with an emotion she couldn't name, not revulsion or disgust, not anger or shock either. It was a strange cousin to them all.

"We could use the rope. They are running low since he went crazy and ordered that one encased."

There was silence as the other picked up a rope and inspected it.

"Yeah."

Quickly the two pulled the ropes off Lea, their nails scratching and easing the knots apart like magic. With their combined strength they managed to shift Lea an inch over and get all the knots they needed. Winding the rope up into loops, they threw the bundles over their shoulders and hopped out of the cave.

A short while later they learned about 'that one' who got 'encased'. It was the biggest gossip of the hour, with every animal that came past the guards stopping to discuss it. Apparently one of the males had managed to escape his binds, nearly killing a guard and almost clawing a fellow lion free before they managed to subdue him.

'He' snapped, beating the escapee until his face was a bloody mess and ordering him bound in so much rope not a scrap of fur could be seen. They dragged him into a different den, this one small and dank, and left him there with no guard. They were sure he was going to die within the hour from the beating, why waste a guard?

Benji closed her eyes and fought back a wave of tears as the words washed over her. Someone she knew was going to die bleeding and beaten, strangled by enough ropes to restrict all movement. It was a bad death. Terrible. Slow and torturous.

_Please don't let it be Ulan._

Till her dying day, she would always clearly remember her first thought upon learning of that male's torture.

_Please don't let it be Ulan._

It wasn't Ulan. It had been Kalifa. A fact she wouldn't learn until season upon season later. And Kalifa survived against all odds, fighting to breathe as his own blood threatened to drown him in those hours in the dark, trapped like a mouse inside a snake's throat.

* * *

_Rafiki Of The Bloodline Baobab, On The Night Of The Lions Fall:_

When it was announced that Taka had surrendered the Pridelands, there was a great party that lasted throughout the night. In the middle of which, Rafiki was fetched by three little monkey medics. They led him to a bundle of rope and blood that had been stashed away in the back of a cave. With a knife one of them carefully cut at the ropes, freeing a lion.

They tended to his wounds, discussing how it happened, who did it, why the monkey's leader sort to help the miserable lion who by rights should have been dead by now.

Rafiki would sigh and ponder what was to come. As his hands applied pressure to the bleeding, he thought about how the same hands held this lion as a newborn, the same hands that drew his image in the branches of the Bloodline Baobab tree. The main line of royals were drawn onto the trunk, ruler to ruler to ruler. But Kalifa was there too, as a descendant of King Mohatu's younger sister, recorded on the tree's oldest branch. Her descendants had no less magic in their blood and so they were all there, Magnar, Naanda, Enma and Kalifa. He even had Hono drawn there, hidden in the bow of the branch, Magnar's secret daughter.

He remembers proudly showing them to Sarabi when she was investigating a heir for Scar, then childless. Proudly his hands ghosted over the art, hovering over the one that represented Kalifa, the powers drawing him there. Those hands now hovered over the broken body, and bitterly he cursed the ancestors. Why had they drawn his hands to Kalifa that day?

For the second time in so many hours, Rafiki watched the legendary fight of the Pridelander blood take over. He recovered, enough to walk away with the males in the early morning as the Queen exiled them and penalised them all with death should they ever be caught on her lands again.

Rafiki climbed high up the rock and sat, watching the males go, escorted out by enough beasts to dam a river.

The moon was bright, and the stars were out. He watched their silvery outlines disappear, Kalifia among them, keeping pace as the beasts stopped doing less escorting and more chasing. He wondered if that was the True King, a lion he found bound and dying in the dark corner of a forgotten cave, steadily recovering even before Rafiki arrived to heal him. The wind circled around him, the scent of another time coming to him, the sounds of another battle. Rafiki cleared his mind feveriously and tried to listen, praying it would bring him hope – or at least something, anything.

Kalifa, peering out of his single working eye, turned around and gazed on Pride Rock for what the lion suspected would be the last time.

Dust flew into Rafiki's eyes, clouding them with a blurry vision of the next time Kalifa lay his eye on his home. It would be with a great golden lion stalking ahead of him and a thousand assorted beasts marching along behind, and the sun rising. Words drifted in, snatches of warm conversation between two friends. Rafiki felt it, the presence of a male lion. The conversation was distant, too far in the future to be clear. But Rafiki closely followed the masked words anyway, listening to their tones and their voices, hoping that one day he would hear those voices again and know...

Know that one of them was the True King.

_The True King and Another, Some Time Far Ahead:_

_I appoint you as the next in line._

_No. I don't want to rule. I didn't as a cub and certainly not now._

_It doesn't matter what you want. I need someone who can step up and continue the campaign if I fall. I offer you a duty not a privilege, so accept...please. _

_There are three other possible heirs, all with the royal blood. Choose any of them._

_Mara is too inexperienced, Enma is unsuitable, and Hono isn't strong enough. They will all crumble within a moon. You won't. Once Mara is trained, she'll take over as heir apparent, until then I need to know you have my back._

_But I come from a litter of two. The blood isn't strong in me!_

_This isn't about blood it is about capability, and even if it was, that point is obsolete. If you get crowned the ancestors will reactivate your bloodline and all dubious benefits will return. It's recorded – it has happened before. The third generation is where the blood goes dormant, but can never be washed out. You'll always be a potential heir, be it heir apparent or the twentieth heir down. Do you accept?_

_Yes._

_Good. Then I, Simba of Mount Meru, Ruler of Kilimonjaro and Her Cradle, and as of now, Guardian of the Wastelands and War-Time King of the Serengeti Pridelands, appoint you as my heir to rule should I not be able, may the mountain bury me._

_I, Kalifa of Pride Rock, of allegiance to the True Royal Majesty of the Serengeti Pridelands, swear to you, Simba of Mount Meru, Ruler of Nearly All The Bloody Lands, that I accept my duty and will honour it, ancestors so help me._

_That's not my official title, but I like it. Has a certain charm._

_Shut up._

Rafiki sat up there high on the Rock, running the voices through his mind again and again, memorising every dip and dive. Only three words appeared perfectly clear to him, repeated twice over.

Of Mount Meru.

If they wanted him to go to Mount Meru, they would have saved their energy and just made two words clear. But they included the _Of._

_Of Mount Meru._

Pobell landed next to him just as the horizon started to lighten into a pink.

"I'm leaving." She croaked through a voice hoarse from overuse. Rafiki grabbed her wing, holding her tight while trying to read her expression.

"Do you sense it?" Her raptor eyes searched him.

"The True One," she gasped. "I can sense him now, a lone lion, afraid of his fate." Now they stared in excited disbelief at one another.

"They gave me three words," Rafiki giggled, the disaster of the night making the good news of the sunrise intoxicate him with hysterical relief. "Of Mount Meru."

"Mount Meru?" She chirped, frowning at the mention of Kilimonjaro's child mountain.

"_Of_ Mount Meru." Her expression opened up in realisation.

"I will go, and find this lone lion."

"No, I will." She swatted his hand off her wing, a scolding look on her face.

"Rafiki, no. Your fate is to tend the Bloodline Baobab and record the history. This new leadership is monumental. Now of all times in history, you need to be recording it." Rafiki considered this darkly and nodded. She was right.

"I am leaving to make sure Taka escapes the Pridelands alive, not a small feat. Then I'm going to track down Mara and her protectors, which could take me moons if the girl does her job right. I promise to find the True One, this lone lion of Mount Meru. But it will take time."

"Not what I wanted to here, but if he is only reaching puberty now, perhaps time is what we should be giving him."

They shared a look, a heavy one, weighed down with the trials of the night and heavy with understanding that the future only held more.

"May we meet again, Rafiki."

"May we meet again."


End file.
